^ARY    I 


RHYMES 


FROM    A 


SAILOR'S    JOURNAL. 


BY 

C.   A.   M.  TABER. 


PRINTED    FOR   THE    AUTHOR 
AT    THE    RIVERSIDE    PRESS,   CAMBRIDGE. 

1873- 


LOAN  STACK 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1873,  by 

C.  A.  M.  TABER, 
in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


•RIVERSIDE,  CAMBRIDGE: 
STEREOTYPED  AND    PRINTED    BY 

H.    O.     HOl'GHTON    AND    COMPANY. 


NOTE   BY   THE  AUTHOR. 

SUPPOSING  it  may  be  interesting  to  curious  readers  to 
know  how  a  sailor's  feelings  and  fancies  run  in  his  wide 
intercourse  with  nature,  —  especially  one  with  a  rhyming 
tendency,  —  and  because  it  happens  that  such  an  experi 
ence  is  seldom  heard  through  the  press,  I  have  selected  a 
portion  of  my  sonnets  and  other  poems,  written  during 
long  whaling  voyages,  years  ago,  for  amusement  and  pas 
time  (crude  and  strange  as  they  are),  to  which  I  have 
added  others  of  later  date,  which  together  compose  the 
contents  of  this  volume. 


738 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

To  A  SWALLOW-  .        .        ....        .        .  i 

To  THE  MEDUSA       .        .      . .        .        .       ...       .  i 

WRITTEN  SOON  AFTER  WATCHING  WHALES  IN  A  STORM  .        .  2 

To  THE  DOLPHIN     .        ......        .        .        .       .  3 

THE  ICEBERG       .        ......       .•.        .        .3 

To  THE  WIND  .        .        .      ...        .       .        .       .        .  4 

HUMAN  LIFE       .       .       .       .       .      ...       .       .        .  4 

LOVELY  FLOWERS     .        .        ...        .        .        .        .        .  5 

LOVE'S  SIMILITUDE 5 

THE  RESERVE  OF  LOVING  HEARTS  .                .  -      .       .        .  6 

Music .6 

ART .  .        .       .        .        .        .  7 

To  THE  SUN       ..      ..     ..        .     .«      ..        .        .        .        .  7 

THE  RESTING-PLACE      ...........      .       .       .  8 

OLD  FRIENDS       .....       .....       .       .       .        .  8 

THE  STRIFE  FOR  GOLD     ....        .        .        .        .        .  9 

AFFECTION  AND  LOVE       ..     ....     ..      ..        .        .        .  9 

THE  WATER-LILY    ...       ......       •       .       .  10 

CLOUDS         .        .       .        .        ....       ...       .11 

THE  STORM-KING .        .  18 

THE  SOUTH  SEA  ISLAND     .        ....       .  .        .27 

THE  VOYAGE .       •.       .  31 

GULF  WEEDS       . 36 

OCEAN 39 

THE  AQUATIC  DREAM 53 

THE  SEA  WORM 57 

THE  NORTHEAST  TRADE-WINDS 59 

KINGS  OF  THE  WEATHER 62 

THE  TROPIC  SEA         .        . 65 

THE  VOYAGE  OF  COLUMBUS 67 

OUT  WHERE  THE  TRADE-WlNDS  BRISKLY  BLOW  .       .       .       .78 

JACK  BROWN 81 

THE  VOYAGE  ALOFT 89 


vi  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

THE  FISHING  FLEET 101 

THE  OCEAN  TIDES 103 

MAY I04 

HOMEWARD  BOUND i°5 

THE  WHALEMAN'S  RETURN 106 

THE  OLD  PURITANIC  BURIAL  GROUND 109 

PATERNAL  DEVOTION i12 

LIZZY "5 

THE  SUMMER  NIGHT'S  SEA 117 

THE  MUSTER  DAY "9 

THE  OLD  APPLE-TREE  .        .        .         ^     .        .122 

THE  HUSKING 124 

THE  DANDELION 127 

THE  SONG  OF  THE  MILK  PAIL 129 

A  MOTHER'S  STORY 13° 

THE  YOUNG  HEART'S  IDEAL 15 r 

MY  NATIVE  TIDES 133 

THE  SPANISH  MAIN *36 

THE  CALIFORNIA  PIONEERS 140 

SUBLIMITY  AND  DANGER 143 

AMBITION 146 

THE  FLEET  OF  BOOKS 147 

NARRAGANSET  BAY 148 

DESOLATION  ISLAND IS2 

THE  LIFE  OF  TREES 153 

THE  SHIPWRECK 155 

YANKEE  DOODLE 180 

OUR  LIVING  WORLD 185 

IMMORTALITY  OF  CHANGE 186 

THE  TOILER 185 

OUR  SHIP  OF  STATE .      190 

ABRAHAM  LINCOLN i92 

THE  SUSPICIONS  OF  SCIENCE 194 

THE  YANKEE  SOLDIER 195 

OUR  MARINE  SERVICE 201 

THE  STRENGTH  OF  TRUTH 202 

GENIUS  COMPARED  TO  A  STAR 2OS 

RETROSPECTION 20^ 

OCTOBER 20^ 

NOVEMBER 2cv 

APPRECIATION 20^ 

SELFISHNESS  OF  SOUL 20= 

GOOD  THOUGHTS  THE  JEWELS  OF  LIFE 2Q\ 


CONTENTS.  VI  i 

PAGE 

THE  UNION  OF  MIND  WITH  NATURE 206 

THE  CRUELTY  OF  NECESSITY 206 

THE  VOYAGE  OF  LIFE •        .        .        •  207 

A  WINTER'S  DAY    .        .        .        .        .        •  •..'•.       •  •     •      207 

THE  SEASONS .  208 

THE  CONSERVATIVE  MIND  .  .  .  .  .,  .  .  208 
THE  FIRST  THOUGHT  OFT  BETRAYS  .  .  .  .  '  .  .  209 
THE  SHADES  OF  DEATH  .  .  .  .  „  .  .  •  .209 
THE  WORTH  OF  SORROW  .  .  ...  •  •  .210 

INCONGRUITY 21° 

LIFE  AND  MIND  .        .        .       •               •       •       •  •  2I1 

POETRY 2I1 


RHYMES. 
PROEM. 

WITH  common  words  in  rhyme  I've  sought  to  tell 

The  aspects  of  the  atmosphere  and  sea, 
Which  caught  my  eyes  out  on  the  ocean's  swell, 

Where  all  the  elements  were  moving  free. 
To  me  they  seemed  at  times  like  living  forms 

Possessed  with  passions  full  of  working  force, 
With  which  I  strove  mid  calms  and  direful  storms, 

While  prying  fancy  watched  their  wondrous  course. 
Besides,  I've  sought  in  numbers  to  portray 

My  love  of  nature,  and  recall  to  mind 
Such  heartfelt  incidents  as  often  sway 

The  common  feelings  of  most  human  kind. 
Withal,  I  give  a  sketch  of  human  thought, 
Such  as  eventful  life  has  in  me  wrought. 


RHYMES 

FROM  A 

SAILOR'S    JOURNAL. 

SONNETS. 
TO   A   SWALLOW. 

POOR  little  Swallow  !  blown  far  out  to  sea, 

All  faint  and  famished,  you  have  found  my  bark 
Your  weary  searching  now  recalls  to  me 

The  dove  that  lonely  wandered  from  the  ark. 
To  you  the  ocean  is  a  shoreless  flood  ; 

Alas  !  from  me  you  can  no  succor  gain ; 
The  desert  air  refuses  to  give  food, 

So  you  must  die  upon  a  hopeless  main. 
How  strange  it  seems,  for  yonder  petrel  gay 

Is  here  at  home,  with  not  so  rapid  wing. 
How  swift  I've  seen  you  o'er  the  fresh  lake  play ; 

But  here  you  are  a  poor,  discouraged  thing. 
How  often  man  a  like  result  displays, 
Cast  from  his  sphere  on  unfamiliar  ways. 

At  Sea,  December,  1861.     Lat.  6°  S.  ;  Long.  9°  30'  E. 

TO   THE  MEDUSA. 

O  BRIGHT  Medusa !  thou  art  to  the  sea 
More  than  the  lily  to  the  summer  lake ; 

O'er  ocean  waves  you  sail,  a  cruiser  free, 

While  clear  the  tints  of  nature  from  you  break. 
i 


WATCHING    WHALES. 

The  rays  of  sunset,  and  the  glow  of  morn, 

Illume  the  beauties  of  your  azure  hue  : 
Bright  ocean  gem,  how  bravely  you  adorn 

The  huge  blue  waves  that  lift  you  up  to  view. 
Sometimes  I  feel  concern,  to  see  you  tost 

On  raging  seas,  amid  so  much  to  fear ; 
However  frail  it  seems  you  are  not  lost, 

Which  yields  a  hope  in  which  the  heart  gains  cheer. 
Like  flowers  in  the  desert  you  delight, 
And  show  that  God  is  everywhere  alike. 

At  Sea,  December,  1861.     Lat.  14°  30'  S. ;  Long.  10°  E. 


WRITTEN    SOON    AFTER    WATCHING    WHALES   IN   A 
STORM. 

GIGANTIC  monsters,  full  of  life  and  strength, 

How  potent  is  your  course  amid  the  waves  ; 
Your  white  spouts  shooting  from  your  surging  length, 

While  dashing  ocean  round  you  wildly  raves  ! 
Your  huge  forms  mount  with  ease  the  mountain  swell 

That  moves  so  swiftly  o'er  the  stormy  waste  : 
A  grand  and  fearful  ride,  you  do  it  well ; 

Thus  everything  is  suited  for  its  place. 
No  other  strength  but  yours  is  fit  to  sport 

With  ocean  in  its  wild  and  grand  career ; 
But  after  all,  this  is  your  greatest  forte, 

For  when  the  storm  abates,  you'll  come  to  fear : 
Our  wave-tost  ship  with  you  the  storm  outrides, 
Then  your  best  blood  will  stain  the  ocean  tides. 


THE  ICEBERG. 

TO  THE  DOLPHIN. 

GAY,  sprightly  Dolphin  of  the  ocean  blue, 

How  beautiful  you  look  in  azure  clear ! 
How  graceful,  proud,  and  brave  you  there  pursue 

The  flying-fish,  whose  arrow  flight  doth  steer 
O'er  foam-capt  waves.    How  sudden  is  your  spring ! 

Quick  as  the  lightning's  flash  you  overtake ; 
Your  golden  fins  are  faster  than  the  wing  ; 

In  silver,  green,  and  gold,  you  gain  our  wake, 
O'er  which  the  eager  sailor  with  his  spear 

With  true  aim  darts ;  you  are  a  wounded  prize. 
A  struggling  beauty  on  the  deck  you  'pear  ; 

The  red  blood  mingles  with  your  changing  dyes, 
While  your  gay  life  goes  out  in  colors  bright, 
As  pleasant  days  at  sunset  fade  to  night. 
February  I,  1862.     Lat.  10°  30'  S.;  Long.  4°  E. 


THE   ICEBERG. 

THE  morning  broke  far  out  on  ocean's  tide ; 

An  Iceberg  shone  before  the  rising  sun. 
It  was  a  thrilling  sight,  our  bark  did  glide 

So  near,  before  we  knew  what  she  had  done. 
We  changed  our  course  so  that  we  should  go  clear, 

And  watched  the  grandeur  of  the  mountain  isle  ; 
Along  its  fearful  steeps,  so  chilling  near, 

The  sun  with  splendor  decked  the  shining  pile  ; 
Against  its  base  we  saw  the  high  waves  dash, 

The  white  spray  sending  up  its  giant  side, 
While  now  and  then  was  heard  a  dreadful  crash, 

As  some  huge  boulder  made  a  plunging  slide  : 
Twas  then  we  realized,  while  filled  with  awe, 
The  grand  digestion  of  great  nature's  law. 
April  3,  1864. 


HUMAN  LIFE. 

TO   THE   WIND. 

O  MIGHTY  Wind  !  how  wonderful  your  course, 

Thou  great,  life-giving  agent  of  our  world  ! 
The  wave-tost  fleets  at  sea  well  show  your  force, 

While  heavy  breakers  on  the  shore  are  hurled. 
In  moving  o'er  the  surface  of  our  globe, 

You  use  the  clouds  as  garments  for  your  form  ; 
Your  angry  spirit,  in  its  threatful  robe, 

Calls  out  in  thunder  while  you  come  to  storm. 
Your  whirling  hurricanes  work  direful  strife, 

In  contrast  to  this  soft  and  wooing  breeze, 
The  very  breath  of  nature,  giving  life 

To  ocean,  sky,  and  land.    You  move  with  ease 
The  sea,  and  foliage  world,  as  graceful  now, 
As  e'er  you  ringlets  fanned  on  beauty's  brow. 


HUMAN   LIFE. 

O  HUMAN  Life  !  how  ceaseless  is  your  flow  ! 

You  struggle  onward  like  a  mighty  river ; 
With  gravitating  force  you  constant  go 

To  the  eternal  sea  that  drinks  forever. 
Through  Time's  great  continent  we  see  you  glide, 

While  countless  springs  your  tributaries  swell, 
But  impure  channels  so  soon  stain  your  tide, 

It  is  not  good  that  you  should  here  long  dwell. 
So  you  move  onward,  on  your  certain  course 

To  an  eternity,  to  settle  clear  ; 
For  there  you  lose  Time's  rough,  disturbing  force. 

Vast  and  serene  your  waters  then  appear ; 
There  to  reflect  the  great  Creator's  might, 
Or  rise  like  vapor  on  some  grander  flight. 

At  Sea,  January,  1862.    Lat.  15°  S.;  Long.  6°  E. 


LOVE'S  SIMILITUDE. 

LOVELY  FLOWERS. 

O  LOVELY  Flowers  !  how  beautiful  you  grow, 

Adorning  wild  and  cultivated  earth  ! 
Your  fragrant  beauty  every  mind  may  know, 

For  you  are  not  confined  to  wealth  or  birth. 
You  are  so  plentiful,  to  be  allowed 

To  those  most  limited  in  worldly  gain  ; 
You  grace  the  joys  and  hopes  of  meek  and  proud  ; 

Through  you  the  great  and  humble  can  maintain 
The  dignity  of  life  ;  with  you  they  seal 

A  poor  soul's  longing  for  a  higher  sphere. 
This  is  one  cause  of  love  we  for  you  feel : 

Another  is,  you  crown  each  new-born  year, 
To  show  the  bounty  God  will  to  us  give, 
Sweet  promise  of  his  mercy  while  we  live. 
At  Sea,  April  14,  1862. 


LOVE'S   SIMILITUDE. 

MY  Love  to  me  is  like  the  moon  to  earth, 

Attractive,  gentle,  beautiful,  and  bright. 
How  much  I  miss  her  on  a  distant  berth  ! 

But  when  we  meet  again,  what  a  delight 
To  have  her  grace  and  beauty  on  me  shine  ! 

Without  her  love,  my  life  would  dim  like  night, 
While  her  attractions  swell  this  heart  of  mine 

As  swells  the  tide  when  moon  and  earth  excite ; 
And  like  them,  too,  we  magnify  our  sphere. 

To  other  minds  our  lives  but  dimly  ray : 
So  earth  and  moon  to  other  worlds  appear, 

Yet  to  themselves  are  a  sublime  display. 
No  other  hearts  can  ever  know  our  cheer, 
Because  they  never  can  revolve  so  near. 

At  Sea,  February  20,  1862. 


MUSIC. 

THE   RESERVE  OF  LOVING  HEARTS. 

How  many  know  their  best  and  dearest  friends 

Are  coy  to  demonstrate  how  much  they  feel ; 
They  have  a  kind  of  modesty  that  tends 

To  hide  their  sympathies  ;  thus  they  conceal 
Affection,  love,  and  grief  from  making  show  ; 

Yes,  they  are  careful  how  they  break  the  seal 
To  other  minds  but  to  such  as  should  know ; 

And  then,  how  much  their  warm  hearts  can  reveal ! 
I  rather  have  a  look  from  such  a  heart, 

Than  the  caresses  of  more  showy  minds  ; 
For  in  a  look  a  true  soul  can  impart 

More  feeling  than  an  actor  e'er  defines. 
Great  demonstrations  oft  are  made  to  lie  ; 
So  in  their  use  the  truthful  heart  is  shy. 

At  Sea,  March,  1862. 


MUSIC. 

FOR  many  souls  sweet  Music  has  the  key 

Which  opes  the  doors  of  love  and  grief  and  joy ; 
What  varied  images  our  minds  can  see, 

While  vice  or  virtue  gives  its  charms  employ  ! 
For  harmony  has  power  to  move  the  heart 

To  all  its  pleasing  eloquence  may  tell ; 
For  every  wish  its  notes  a  zeal  impart 

Increasing  inclination,  for  its  swell 
Can  tell  of  all  humanity's  desire. 

It  sounds  religious  hope  and  patriot  fame  ; 
Its  thrilling  strains  can  every  passion  fire. 

Ambition,  love,  and  duty,  it  doth  flame  ; 
Arousing  all,  I  verily  believe, 
The  choicest  thought  our  souls  on  earth  conceive. 

July,  1863. 


TO    THE  SUN. 


ART. 


O  MAGIC  Art !  what  wonders  you  create 

From  out  the  cruder  substances  of  earth  ! 
Thou  soul  of  action,  able  to  awake 

The  lifeless  clay  into  a  wondrous  birth, 
In  you  we  see  a  power  which  garners  all 

The  fleeting  beauties  of  sea,  sky,  and  land, 
To  hold  them  at  your  will  ;  thus  you  recall 

The  choicest  work  of  nature,  while  your  hand 
Preserves  the  fairest  forms  man  ever  knew. 

And  while  you  crown  great  actions  that  have  filled 
Time's  interesting  round,  we  learn  through  you 

A  higher  life  ;  our  senses  grow  so  skilled 
That  we  with  common  things  no  longer  plod, 
But  live  to  trace  the  higher  works  of  God. 

December,  1863. 


TO   THE  SUN. 

O  GLORIOUS  Sun  !  source  of  light  and  heat, 

Great  heart  of  nature  by  which  all  things  live  ! 
Your  vital  warmth  the  whole  of  life  doth  treat, 

For  nature  has  no  force  but  what  you  give. 
And  when  the  world  turns  toward  you  for  day, 

Creation,  grateful,  gives  her  offering  ; 
Land,  sea,  and  sky,  to  you  all  homage  pay  ; 

The  universe  with  joy  your  praise  doth  sing,  — 
The  ocean  bright  with  waves,  the  land  with  flowers  ; 

So  that  our  souls  of  heaven  have  a  taste. 
It's  then  we  feel,  in  your  reviving  powers 

The  capitol  of  God  may  have  a  place. 
If  heaven  is  within  our  system  found, 
It  seems  that  you  must  be  the  holy  ground. 


OLD  FRIENDS. 

THE   RESTING-PLACE. 

WHILE  floating  down  the  rugged  stream  of  life, 

Mid  vexing  rapids  and  whirlpools  of  fear  ; 
'Tis  sweet  to  gain  an  eddy  free  from  strife, 

Where  peace  and  comfort  mingle  to  give  cheer. 
We  see  life's  troubled  current  rushing  by, 

While  we  are  resting  in  our  quiet  nook, 
Whose  waters  mirror  so  clear  to  the  eye, 

That  earth  and  heaven  have  a  kindred  look ; 
While  pleasures  bloom  like  lilies  pure  and  fair, 

To  crown  love's  pleasant  banks  close  by  our  side. 
Thank  God  for  such  repose  !  we  should  despair, 

Forever  doomed  to  float  life's  rugged  tide  ; 
For  life  is  vain,  which  constant  fails  to  find 
Kind  resting-places  for  the  heart  and  mind. 

January  15,  1862. 


OLD  FRIENDS. 

To  meet  old  friends  is  such  a  blessed  gain, 

While  memory  revives  old  times  once  more ! 
With  them  the  past  comes  to  our  heart  and  brain 

More  pleasingly  than  what  it  seemed  before. 
Then  even  grief  is  softened  to  a  charm, 

So  we  can  speak  of  all  with  easy  heart ; 
For  in  the  past  our  minds  feel  no  alarm  ; 

Our  early  hopes  and  fears  have  played  their  part. 
How  easy,  in  our  wider  range  of  thought, 

We  turn  a  lifetime  to  a  simple  tale  ! 
Lives  that  have  ceased,  again  to  mind  are  brought, 

For  memory  to  weigh  in  her  true  scale  : 
And  this  will  be  our  fate,  some  future  day ; 
Then  let  us  live  so  virtue  may  outweigh. 

At  Sea,  March,  1862. 


AFFECTION  AND  LOVE. 

THE  STRIFE  FOR  GOLD. 

MEN  often  lose  the  richest  charms  of  life 

In  toil  for  wealth,  and  rob  their  lives'  whole  length 
Of  higher  joys  ;  what  miserable  strife, 

To  use  their  all  —  mind,  body,  life,  and  strength  — 
Aye,  all  for  gold.     It  has  its  worth,  but  heed 

How  much  the  cost ;  affection,  friendship,  taste, 
Is  sacrificed  for  an  unholy  greed, 

By  which  true  sense  of  justice  is  defaced  ; 
Yet  this  is  what  the  worldly  call  success, 

They  that  ne'er  owned  a  sympathizing  heart. 
How  few  of  life's  best  riches  such  possess ! 

Their  eyes  are  blind  to  nature,  love,  and  art. 
Such  minds,  like  desert  air,  love  fountains  dry  ; 
Their  hearts  like  arid  gold  mines  sterile  lie. 


AFFECTION  AND   LOVE. 

WHILE  my  life's  dawn  was  growing  into  day, 

Affection  like  aurora  was  my  light ; 
Like  morning  clouds  my  friends  were  by  it  rayed, 

Which  gave  my  youth  a  most  supreme  delight. 
Thus  my  young  heart  was  held  in  gentle  sway. 

But  when  at  puberty  my  sun  arose, 
Its  more  reviving  light  to  me  betrayed 

A  brighter  charm  than  dawn  could  e'er  disclose  : 
Fair  woman's  beauty  then  did  to  me  show 

A  new  and  glad  creation  to  my  soul, 
Which  caused  my  heart  with  strange  delight  to  glow. 

A  world  of  love  to  me  she  did  unroll. 
Who  finds  a  greater  joy  beneath  the  sun, 
Though  wealth  and  reputation  both  are  won  ? 
At  Sea. 


10  THE    WATER-LILY. 


THE     WATER-LILY.i 

BRIGHT  Water-lily  of  the  summer  lake, 

How  beautiful  reflects  your  white  and  gold  ! 
The  green  leaves  float  around  you,  while  you  wake 

Our  minds  to  see  life's  symbol  plainly  told. 
Oft  human  souls  are  planted  like  your  beds, 

Far  down  among  the  miry  depths  of  life, 
Where  sins  like  reptiles  hide  their  ugly  heads  ; 

Yet  they  like  you  oft  rise  above  the  strife  ; 
But  still,  with  you  they  cannot  all  compare, 

But  liken  more  the  yellow  lily's  face, 
Which  sheds  no  sweetness  on  the  morning  air. 

It  does  not  float  like  you  with  comely  grace  ; 
But  draws  its  sustenance  to  give  offense, 
While  your  sweet  fragrance  charms  our  finest  sense. 

August,  1864. 


CLOUDS. 

O  SOARING  clouds  !  you  constant  sway 
Our  atmosphere  with  grand  display 

Of  beauty,  love,  or  strife. 
What  mighty  forces  you  can  wield, 
To  constant  rule  broad  heaven's  field, 

And  fill  its  space  with  life  ! 

Thus  you  have  ruled  since  light  first  threw 
Its  glory  on  the  vaulted  blue, 

Grand  agents  of  the  sun : 
Oft  donning  robes  of  regal  splendor, 
Equipped  with  snow,  hail,  rain,  and  thunder, 

What  battles  you  have  won  ! 

When  winter  chills  your  airy  sphere, 
With  burdened  aspect  you  appear 

To  clothe  earth's  naked  form. 
So  heavily  your  snows  are  spread, 
Man's  fearful  life  is  often  led 

To  dread  your  blinding  storm. 

As  seasons  change,  so  do  your  moods  ; 
Your  rigor,  which  o'er  winter  broods, 

The  milder  spring  dissolves. 
O'er  her  young  face  you  smile  and  weep  ; 
With  summer's  charms  you  play  and  sleep  ; 

Your  beauties  autumn  solves. 

How  cheerful,  on  the  summer  morn, 
You  join  aurora  to  adorn 

The  day  that  gayly  breaks  ; 


12  CLOUDS. 

And  o'er  the  lakes  and  rivers  strow 

Your  misty  vails,  to  shed  the  glow 

Which  all  creation  wakes. 

All  night  unseen  'mid  airy  loft 

Your  spirits  breathe  their  dews  so  soft, 

To  jewel  earth's  green  robe. 
The  meads  and  groves  are  gemmed  with  skill ; 
Then  from  the  top  of  some  high  hill, 

You  view  the  sparkling  globe. 

How  gladly  grateful  nature  sings, 
For  every  gift  your  bounty  brings, 

And  scatters  o'er  her  ground. 
The  blushing  morn  your  love  beguiles  ; 
With  fragrant  breath,  and  half  veiled  smiles, 

She  keeps  you  lingering  round. 

Sometimes  your  wide-extended  wings 
Soar  to  the  peaks  of  mountain  kings, 

To  turban-crown  their  heads. 
And  then  perhaps  you  condescend 
The  sunny  valleys  to  defend, 

When  heat  too  ardent  sheds. 

Then,  how  your  fleeting  shadows  race, 
While  merry  zephyrs,  in  the  chase, 

Are  waving  meadows  green  ; 
And  when  they  cross  the  sunny  lake, 
They  for  a  moment  swiftly  take 

The  sparkles  from  its  sheen. 

While  you  so  lightly  float  the  sky 
What  changing  landscapes  you  must  spy, 
Which  our  fair  world  displays. 


CLOUDS.  13 

What  ecstasy  'twould  be  to  float 
On  your  light  wings,  and  gayly  note 
The  beauty  earth  portrays  ! 

How  good  it  seems,  on  summer  days, 
Beneath  the  sun's  oppressive  rays, 

To  view  your  higher  sphere  ; 
So  bright,  above  the  line  of  snow, 
The  blue  sky  with  white  drifts  you  strow, 

Our  heated  gaze  to  cheer. 

High  and  sublime  you  often  raise 
Vast  nature's  dome  so  to  our  gaze 

Her  room  looks  large  and  grand  ; 
Earth's  tallest  mountains  seem  quite  low, 
When  you  display  this  lofty  show, 

Vast  heaven's  arch  to  span. 

Beneath  your  wide  and  lofty  dome, 
What  splendid  paintings  find  a  home, 

In  panoramic  hall ! 

When  distance  brings  you  near  the  ground, 
You  fresco  nature's  room  around, 

Rich  garnishing  her  wall. 

For  fancy's  eye  you  fill  the  air 
With  scenes  most  beautiful  and  rare, 

Where  thought  delights  to  pace  ; 
Exploring  wide  your  mystic  field, 
What  wondrous  visions  are  revealed, 

Your  lofty  world  to  grace. 

Sometimes  within  your  changing  space, 
The  fertile  brain  can  plainly  trace 
Vast  piles  of  temples  fair. 


14  CLOUDS. 

You  often  don  the  Eastern  style ; 
With  hills  and  deserts,  'round  the  Nile, 
Your  vapors  will  compare. 

Strange  forms,  'in  costumes  of  the  East, 
Are  mounted  on  some  wondrous  beast, 

To  travel  space  like  land. 
Sometimes  in  caravans  they  march, 
And  seem  to  dim  broad  heaven's  arch, 

With  clouds  of  moving  sand. 

Ofttimes  you  seem  huge  threatful  things, 
With  diverse  shapes  and  shadowed  wings, 

To  soar  along  the  sky. 
With  fancy's  panoramic  skill, 
What  depth  and  richness  seem  to  fill 

Those  paintings  of  the  eye. 

Out  on  the  sea  you  often  pile, 

Like  islands  grand,  and  thus  beguile, 

With  mountains,  hills,  and  vales. 
With  rocks  and  trees  your  steeps  appear, 
While  off  your  headlands  proudly  steer 

Large  ships,  with  lofty  sails. 

The  ancient  seamen  you  deceived  ; 
Their  fancies  credulous  believed 

You  were  the  Islands  blest. 
E'en  now  you  cope  with  boasting  skill  ; 
Your  phantoms  haunt  the  voyager  still, 

And  every  shore  infest. 

When  winds  are  high  through  heaven's  space, 
You  seem  to  run  a  tireless  race, 
Before  the  rushing  gale  ; 


CLOUDS.  15 

Like  horses  trooping  o'er  the  plains, 
You  scud  with  flying  tails  and  manes, 
O'er  city,  hill,  and  vale. 

When  summer's  joyful  beauty  reigns, 
What  fearful  passion  on  you  gains, 

To  change  sweet  sights  and  sounds  ! 
In  gloomy  distance  you  career, 
With  threat'ning  shapes,  imposing  fear 

On  all  the  region  round. 

How  fierce  the  aspect  of  your  face  ; 
A  dreadful  rage  we  fearful  trace, 

Wild  writhing  your  dire  form  ! 
At  first  your  thunder  sounds  afar, 
But  soon  the  solid  earth  doth  jar, 

While  you  approach  to  storm  ! 

An  awful  giant  you  appear, 
Equipped  in  all  the  warlike  gear, 

Of  elemental  strife. 

Like  gleaming  swords  your  lightnings  flash, 
While  loud  artillery  doth  crash, 

As  danger  waxes  rife  ! 

The  forest  trees,  tost  in  their  fright, 
While  vivid  flashes,  quick  to  smite, 

Fill  all  with  dire  dismay  ! 
Swift  are  the  torrents ;  loud  the  rattle 
Of  mighty  forces  doing  battle 

For  elemental  sway  ! 

But  when  to  milder  moods  you  yield, 
You  use  the  rainbow  for  your  shield, 
Man's  hopeful  lands  to  crown  ; 


1 6  CLOUDS. 

It's  then  you  show  a  kindly  power, 
While  from  your  height  you  gently  shower 
Your  garnered  treasures  down. 

The  earth,  refreshed,  returns  your  gift ; 
Her  blooming  plants  toward  you  lift 

Their  pure,  confiding  eyes. 
With  grateful  innocence  they  gaze, 
And  while  you  wing  your  distant  ways, 

Their  thanks  with  fragrance  rise. 

And  when  the  king  of  day  retires, 
In  heaven's  vaults  you  kindle  fires 

In  honor  to  his  grace, 
Who  lends  his  glory  to  your  shrine, 
So  that  your  splendors  far  outshine 

The  rest  of  heaven's  space. 

The  western  sky  is  one  vast  stage, 
Where  all  your  richest  hues  engage, 

To  show  their  magic  tone. 
Bright  canopies  you  spread  around  j 
The  brilliant  king  of  day  is  crowned 

With  splendor  grandly  shown. 

A  galaxy  of  angels  bright 

At  times  appear  to  charm  the  sight, 

In  glory  so  arrayed, 
They  give  imagination  work, 
To  guess  what  other  beauties  lurk 

Beyond  your  grand  parade. 

The  emulating  earth  aspires 
To  mirror  tints  from  your  bright  fires, 
On  river,  sea,  and  lake. 


CLOUDS. 

Repeating  deep  your  blush,  and  gold, 
While  rich  your  tableaux  wide  unfold 
Scenes  of  most  glorious  make. 

So  slow,  unconscious,  and  serene, 
Night  draws  her  curtain  on  the  scene, 

Your  beauties  are  decoyed. 
Their  splendor  mingles  with  the  shade  ; 
So  imperceptibly  they  fade, 

The  charm  is  not  destroyed. 

How  oft  you  coquet  with  the  moon, 
And  seek  to  gain  the  happy  boon 

Of  her  sweet,  winning  smiles. 
At  times,  her  coyness  you  embrace, 
While  strives  she,  in  her  virgin  grace, 

Thus  to  defeat  your  wiles. 

The  watchful  stars  gaze  on  the  scene, 
And  with  bright  garlands  deck  their  queen, 

Who  still  remains  so  chaste ; 
While  you  may  gain  a  silver  ray, 
To  deck  your  head,  on  your  far  way 

To  regions  dim  and  vast. 

At  times  you  loiter  full  in  view, 
And  on  the  quiet  welkin  strew 

Your  fleecy  forms  to  rest. 
With  watchful  mien  the  moon,  with  care 
So  faithful,  guards  your  slumbers  there, 

While  all  the  air  seems  blest. 

In  midnight  hours  you  oft  invade 
The  moon  and  stars,  with  fearful  shade ; 
While  vivid  lightnings  light 


18  THE  STOKM-KING. 

Your  growling  anger  to  the  eye ! 
So  everything  appears  to  fly 

Before  your  dreadful  might ! 

What  other  force  can  so  derange 
The  elements,  -or  cause  such  change, 

Or  so  impress  the  soul  ? 
In  all  your  moods  you  prove  sublime  ; 
With  potency  to  sway  each  clime, 

You  march  from  pole  to  pole. 

The  great  and  mighty  One  on  high 
With  you  has  spirited  the  sky, 

To  raise  our  minds  from  earth. 
With  awe  and  pleasure  you  surprise 
Imagination's  lifted  eyes, 

While  giving  thoughts  new  birth. 
At  Sea,  February,  1860. 


THE   STORM-KING.2 

THE  king  of  storms,  a  demon  dire, 
On  Eastern  seas  had  wreaked  his  ire, 
Disturbing  land  and  ocean's  face 
With  strong  typhoons,  and  filling  space 
With  as  destructive  evil  sway 
As  ever  marked  his  dreadful  way. 
At  length  his  fancy  seems  possessed 
With  a  desire  to  take  some  rest ; 
So,  in  his  choice  of  nature's  rounds, 
He  makes  his  camp  on  Afric's  grounds, 
Where  life  is  like  a  monster  fierce, 
Civilization  vain  would  pierce, 
And  nature,  in  her  wildest  moods, 


THE  STORM-KING.  19 

A  dire,  destructive  spirit  broods. 

On  Kong's  high  range  he  takes  his  seat, 

About  whose  heights  the  tempests  meet, 

To  deeper  gloom  his  savage  claim,  • 

And  sound  aloud  his  dreadful  fame. 

Along  the  north  of  this  tall  land 

Is  stretched  Sahara's  burning  sand, 

Whose  drifts  he  moves  with  scorching  breath, 

O'er  sunny  regions  spreading  death ; 

While  down  on  Guinea's  murky  plains 

The  yellow-visaged  fever  reigns  ; 

So  deadly  forces  seem  to  bound 

All  this  destructive  region  round. 

With  death's  grim  force  in  front  and  rear, 

The  storm-king's  mood  strikes  all  with  fear  ; 

For  with  the  sun  at  equinox, 

His  realms  are  shook  with  thunder  shocks 

The  elemental  forces  bring, 

To  entertain  their  ireful  king. 

Off  Afric's  coast  he  sees  arrayed 

As  mad  a  host  as  e'er  obeyed 

The  mandates  of  his  fearful  ire, 

Which  swells  his  rage  with  new  desire 

To  march  again  on  some  campaign 

Where  he  can  more  fresh  laurels  gain. 

Wrapt  in  a  dark  and  angry  cloud, 

Whose  wreathing  folds  can  scarcely  shroud 

His  evil-working  form  within, 

He  takes  his  seat  above  the  din, 

To  thunder  forth  his  dreadful  orders, 

On  lightning  flashes  through  his  borders. 

The  host  of  clouds  beneath  him  spread 

Are  waiting  only  to  be  led 

On  expeditions  dire  and  vast, 

With  death  and  ruin  earth  to  blast. 


20  THE  STORM-KING. 

For  wide  across  Atlantic's  zone, 

The  strong,  law-loving  trades  have  strown 

All  those  disquiet  clouds  that  make, 

Within  their  realms  such  laws  to  break. 

Like  convicts  banished  from  their  home, 

Those  discontented  spirits  roam  ; 

Their  frightful  forms  most  direful  loom, 

Dark  shading  ocean's  zone  with  gloom, 

Delaying  ships  with  rains  and  calms, 

Where  lightnings  sound  their  dread  alarms, 

While  gropes  the  voyager  through  their  shades, 

To  gain  the  South  Atlantic  trades. 

The  storm -king  views  this  dreadful  force 

With  flashing  eyes,  and  marks  the  course 

That  he  shall  take  from  his  dark  lair, 

To  head  those  furies  of  the  air ; 

So  to  make  dire  broad  heaven's  arch, 

And  ruin  work  in  frantic  march. 

Far  o'er  the  sea  his  eyes  have  scanned 
A  beautiful  and  happy  land  : 
Fair  India's  isles  and  summer  seas, 
Fanned  by  the  ocean's  softest  breeze, 
Smile  like  a  new-created  world, 
Where  devastation  ne'er  was  hurled  ; 
The  elements  move  many  miles 
To  pay  their  court  to  those  bright  isles ; 
The  winds,  as  tribute,  waft  in  air, 
Soft  fleecy  clouds,  to  shed  the  glare 
The  tropic  sun  too  ardent  shows  ; 
While  ocean  at  their  feet  bestows 
His  choicest  gems,  and  softly  sighs 
His  love  beneath  the  sunny  skies  ; 
A  world  of  flowers  are  constant  grown, 
And  fragrant  o'er  the  islands  strown  j 
Here  civilization  sends  its  fleets, 


THE  STORM-KING.  21 

To  gather  rich,  inviting  sweets  ; 

They  hover  round  the  land  like  bees, 

Their  white  wings  spread  to  every  breeze, 

Awarding  man  luxurious  wealth, 

Besides  the  essences  of  health. 

But  like  the  rest  of  space  below, 

A  painful  fear  those  isles  must  know  ; 

For  far  beyond  their  pleasant  weather 

The  stormy  hosts  have  met  together, 

And  bound  themselves  to  march  at  call, 

With  whirlwind's  wrath  and  angry  squall. 

Their  stormy  king,  on  Afric's  main, 

In  camp  no  longer  can  remain  ; 

For  anger  swells  his  tempest  form, 

Fair  India's  peaceful  lands  to  storm  ; 

With  rage  he  looms  o'er  Afric's  shore, 

In  shapes  more  dreadful  than  before  ; 

A  fiend  more  dire  ne'er  was  defined 

In  hell's  dread  space,  to  scare  the  mind, 

Than  this  mad  spirit  looming  high, 

To  lead  his  forces  through  the  sky : 

Enough  of  human  in  his  shape, 

So  he  can  more  completely  ape, 

With  his  dire  strength,  such  signs  of  rage 

As  should  become  his  stormy  stage. 

To  shun  his  wrath  there  seems  no  chance  ; 

His  red  eyes  wink  with  fiery  glance, 

All  ready  for  his  angry  dash  ; 

His  sharp  blades  from  their  scabbards  flash, 

Quick  brandishing  his  lightning  daggers, 

He  gives  a  roar  that  fairly  staggers 

The  strongest  elements  around, 

Deep  jarring  e'en  the  solid  ground, 

Resounding  all  along  the  line 

Of  his  mad  hosts  upon  the  brine. 

Prompt  to  his  call  his  forces  prove, 


22  THE  STORM-KING. 

In  anger  wreathing  shapes  they  move, 

To  gain  a  swift  tornado  motion, 

For  their  grand  march  upon  the  ocean, 

Where  vast  aerial  life  is  driven, 

Ne'er  to  regain  its  forest  haven. 

In  this  mad  march  across  the  main, 

They  soon  a  mighty  force  obtain. 

Tall  water-spouts  their  standards  raise, 

High  up  aloft  where  lightnings  blaze, 

Beneath  whose  direful  banners  sail 

A  host  of  squalls  to  swell  the  gale. 

The  storm-king's  ire  they  all  partake  ; 

Brave  sailing  barks  their  strong  winds  rake, 

Quick  stripping  them  of  their  staunch  gear, 

To  leave  them  cripples  in  the  rear  ; 

O'erwhelming  too,  with  cruel  blast, 

Such  frail  medusae  as  have  cast 

Their  beauties  on  the  summer  wave, 

To  sport  awhile  and  find  a  grave. 

Before  the  storm-king's  forces  gain 
Fair  India's  shores,  he  forms  amain 
The  fearful  hosts  his  thunder  calls 
From  out  the  region  of  the  squalls. 
He  sweeps  the  air  with  whirling  force, 
Subjecting,  in  his  circuit  course, 
The  maddest  demons  of  the  storm. 
In  fierce  array  he  makes  them  form, 
While  he  surveys  them  from  the  centre, 
Where  other  furies  cannot  enter. 
Here  he  preserves  an  awful  calm, 
Rife  with  the  sights  of  dire  alarm ; 
For  in  this  centre,  waves  are  splashing, 
All  uncontrolled  so  wildly  dashing, 
While  all  around  his  mad  hosts  whirl, 
Death  and  destruction  fierce  to  hurl. 


THE  STORM-KING.  23 

Each  demon  there,  with  fury  pale, 
With  yells  infernal  swells  the  gale  ; 
The  lightning's  dimming,  drowning  thunder 
Mad  rending  ocean  waves  asunder, 
Their  fragments  strewing  through  the  air  ; 
Which  fairly  makes  the  storm-king  stare, 
To  see  what  fury  he  has  wrought, 
Surpassing  even  his  mad  thought. 

Within  the  range  of  his  dire  path, 
We  view  the  victims  of  his  wrath. 
Woe  to  the  ships  that  here  are  found, 
Not  well  appointed,  or  unsound  ; 
For  such  as  those  all  may  depend, 
Will  find  a  sure  and  foolish  end. 
Poor  sailors  now  are  to  be  pitied, 
Who  are  in  doubtful  vessels  fitted : 
Their  relatives  will  soon  be  mourners, 
Through  ignorant  or  careless  owners. 

The  elements  seem  working  strange, 

To  give  their  force  to  disarrange 

The  fairest  regions  of  the  world. 

Why  do  they  lend  their  strength  to  hurl 

Distress  and  slaughter  to  the  space 

Which  they  have  nursed  with  charming  grace  ? 

Why  join  the  storm-king  who  besets 

Those  lovely  isles,  fond  Nature's  pets  ? 

Both  sea  and  air  have  shown  their  skill 

This  blooming  land  with  joy  to  fill ; 

Beneath  the  moon,  at  even  shades, 

Great  ocean  chanted  serenades  ; 

His  loving  breath  bedewed  soft  gales, 

To  keep  refreshed  their  sunny  vales ; 

Yet  jealous  somehow  of  their  pride, 

The  elements  their  forms  would  hide. 


24  THE  STORM-KING. 

For  this  they  sent  both  haze  and  cloua, 
Those  ever-winning  isles  to  shroud ; 
For  when  the  stars  looked  from  above, 
They  could  not  help  but  learn  to  love 
Those  blooming  isles  with  bowers  so  green, 
Which  sea  and  air  would  vainly  screen. 
For  while  they  in  the  moonlight  bask, 
Their  beauties  lavishly  unmask  ; 
And  certain  seasons  of  the  year, 
The  love-lit  stars  approach  so  near, 
While  lighting  up  the  tropic  sky, 
They  seem  with  love  to  magnify, 
And  fondly  gaze  on  those  bright  queens. 
The  winds  and  waters  view  such  scenes 
With  jealousy  and  vengeful  rage  ; 
So  with  the  storm-king  they  engage, 
To  swell  the  dreadful  hurricane 
So  madly  raging  on  the  main. 

The  hurricane  soon  comes  so  near 
Its  roar  and  thunder  all  can  hear ; 
The  air  grows  dense  about  the  land, 
While  ocean  moans  along  the  strand. 
The  sun,  deep  blushing,  hides  his  head, 
While  all  around  flash  lightnings  red  ; 
Bright  meteors,  like  rockets,  burst 
Throughout  the  space  of  Heaven  curst. 
Then  from  the  sea,  a  fearful  sight, 
The  storm-king  comes,  so  mad  to  smite  ! 
Ah !  who  can  tell  the  mighty  wrath, 
That  marks  his  direful,  cruel  path ! 
The  awful  shock  none  can  resist  ; 
His  furious  hands  in  fragments  twist 
The  massive  strength  of  trees  and  towers, 
While  man  and  beast  in  terror  cowers. 
The  air  is  full  of  ruin  hurled  ' 


THE  STORM-KING.  25 

Against  a  devasted  world  ; 

The  smiting  storm  remorseless  kills, 

And  all  the  fated  region  fills 

With  death  and  terror.    Lightnings  flash 

Till  sense  is  numb,  so  great  the  crash  ! 

The  roaring  seas  and  thunder's  rattle, 

So  loud  at  first  to  sound  the  battle, 

Are  drowned  amid  the  deafning  yell, 

Death's  wildest  and  most  fearful  spell ! 

The  swift  sea  brine  fills  all  the  air, 

The  roaring  blasts  with  madness  tear 

The  deep,  foundation  of  the  waves 

Fast  strewing  ocean's  space  with  graves. 

E'en  death  seems  now  a  welcome  guest, 

Releasing  horror  and  distress  ; 

For  every  sense  is  on  the  rack, 

And  devastations  nothing  lack  ! 

There's  no  spectator  in  the  scene, 

But  wretched  victims  naught  can  screen. 

Life,  art,  and  nature,  all  are  cast 

To  fury's  wild,  destructive  blast ; 

Until  the  storm-king's  ruin-cloyed, 

Or  naught  remains  to  be  destroyed. 

Then  he  again  the  sea  invades, 

Swift  spreading  terror  through  the  trades, 

Until  he  meets  the  Gulf  Stream's  tide, 

Whose  potent  waters  northward  glide, 

To  carry  off  the  ruthless  storms, 

Which  round  the  tropic  region  swarms. 

Now  watch  the  storm-king  through  his  rage, 
So  strong  from  Afric  to  engage, 
Fierce  marching  forth  his  demon  host, 
On  India's  fair,  defenseless  coast ; 
Extending  death  and  devastation, 
So  far  beyond  the  mind's  narration, 


THE  STORM-KING. 

Until  he  gains  the  foolish  notion, 
To  battle  with  a  temperate  ocean. 
But  in  this  furious  attack 
He's  vanquished  on  the  west  wind's  track, 
Which  sweeps  across  the  northern  sea, 
To  drive  the  waves  and  storms  a-lee  ; 
His  dreadful  force,  dispersed,  is  strown 
Far  o'er  a  wide  and  temperate  zone. 
Thus  all  can  see  how  spiteful  harms 
Can  overthrow  luxurious  charms  ; 
But  when  they  strive  with  temperate  habits, 
A  strength  our  sounder  nature  covets, 
However  strong  they  take  the  field, 
They  meet  a  force  that  will  not  yield. 
But  when  we  look  on  cruel  ruin 
The  storm-fiends  have  been  madly  strewing, 
And  see  poor  wounded  wretches  left, 
Of  every  living  joy  bereft  — 
Poor,  helpless  souls,  deprived  of  home 
With  broken  hearts  thus  left  to  gloam 
O'er  sad,  destructive  freaks  of  nature, 
So  seeming  unjust  to  the  creature  — 
O  let  it  call  out  a  compassion 
Fit  to  relieve  such  deep  depression. 
Yes,  let  the  nations  rich  in  gain 
Help  to  relieve  their  hapless  pain  ! 
And  may  we  all  have  human  feeling 
Enough  to  be  just  in  our  dealing  ; 
Proving,  amid  so  much  disaster, 
That  charity  is  yet  our  master. 
At  Sea,  August,  1860, 


THE  SOUTH  SEA   ISLAND.  2^ 


THE   SOUTH    SEA    ISLAND. 

DAY  after  day,  month  after  month, 

We  cruised  Pacific's  main, 
Contending  with  its  calms  and  storms, 

To  take  its  giant  game. 
What  deeds  of  courage,  strength,  and  skill, 

We  did  among  the  whales  ! 
Besides,  we  rode  out  with  success 

The  most  destroying  gales. 

At  length,  on  one  bright  sunny  day, 

The  land  aloft  was  cried  ; 
Each  heart  with  wild  excitement  leaped, 

As  leaps  the  ocean  tide  ; 
While  in  the  distance  magic  rose, 

As  we  swift  onward  steered, 
An  island  blue  from  out  the  waves  ; 

Against  the  sky  it  peered. 

Imagination  was  at  work, 

In  picturing  such  sights 
As  South  Sea  sailors  often  see, 

While  fancying  delights. 
Our  sense  was  soon  to  realize 

The  dreams  our  hearts' had  cheered  ; 
And  more  and  more  this  was  confirmed, 

As  we  the  island  neared. 

The  distance  in  our  case  was  not 
The  same  as  some  construe ; 

The  nearer  to  the  land  we  sailed 
More  fair  the  island  grew  ; 

And  when  the  white  beach  was  revealed, 
It  grew  a  picture  rare  ; 


THE  SOUTH  SEA   ISLAND. 

Sky,  sea,  and  land  seemed  to  combine, 
To  show  off  nature  fair. 

The  ocean  was  of  azure  hue, 

Deep  seeming  as  the  sky  ; 
Its  waves  dashed  white  on  coral  reefs, 

Which  round  the  island  lie ; 
And  hemmed  a  ring  of  smooth,  green  sea 

Which  bound  the  island's  sides, 
Where  green  vales  sent  delightful  streams 

To  mingle  with  the  tides. 

'Mid  shady  groves  beyond  the  beach, 

The  natives  lived  in  ease, 
With  everything  a  heart  could  wish, 

Their  senses  to  appease  : 
Such  fruits  as  tropic  regions  yield 

Enriched  each  vine  and  tree, 
And  gave  their  plenty  to  the  whole, 

For  everything  was  free. 

High  mountains  rose  above  the  scene, 

With  peaks  sublimely  tall  ; 
The  clouds  embraced  their  lofty  forms  ; 

So  love  reigned  over  all. 
The  ocean  also  seemed  in  love, 

To  make  the  charm  complete, 
While  each  approaching  billow  kneeled 

To  kiss  the  island's  feet. 

The  light  canoes  sprang  through  the  surf, 

To  gain  our  vessel's  side, 
While  every  sailor  from  the  deck, 

Wild  native  beauty  spied  ; 
For  each  canoe  brought  off  a  freight 

Of  maids,  each  one  a  belle, 


THE  SOUTH  SEA   ISLAND.  29 

Whose  winning  smiles,  and  lovely  forms, 
Of  many  a  love-scene  tell. 

Our  anchor  down,  and  sails  all  furled, 

By  this  enchanted  isle, 
I'll  tell  you  how  a  native  maid 

My  leisure  pleased  awhile. 
She  was  a  model  for  my  thought ; 

Each  sense  with  pleasure  thrilled, 
While  her  fine  form  and  native  grace 

My  eager  vision  filled. 

'Neath  bright  black  eyes,  her  tuneful  lips 

Showed  teeth  as  white  as  spray, 
Which  well  became  her  rich  brown  face, 

Where  smiles  were  prone  to  play. 
A  wreath  of  tropic  flowers  she  wore, 

To  deck  her  raven  hair  ; 
About  her  graceful  neck  was  hung 

A  string  of  corals  rare. 

Her  dress,  a  light  and  wavy  fringe, 

Was  wreathed  around  her  waist 
So  all  the  beauties  of  her  form 

Quite  easily  were  traced. 
Her  step  was  fearless,  free,  and  light, 

Where  mountains  proudly  rear ; 
With  ease  and  grace  she  swam  the  surf, 

Without  a  sign  of  fear. 

However  proud  enlightened  life, 

It  cannot  blend  its  force 
With  nature's  beauties,  like  the  child 

Who  wields  her  whole  resource. 


30  THE  SOUTH  SEA   ISLAND. 

For  every  day  this  maiden,bathed 

In  sunshine,  air,  and  sea, 
Which  gave  her  form  a  healthy  charm, 

So  graceful,  chaste,  and  free. 

How  well  with  this  bright  mountain  isle 

Her  charms  seemed  to  compare  ! 
'Twas  nature's  pure  and  simple  life, 

Devoid  of  worldly  care. 
When  duty  did  not  claim  my  time, 

How  much  it  pleased  my  mind, 
To  solve  the  pleasures  of  a  land 

Where  customs  did  not  bind. 

'Mid  nature's  haunts,  the  island  seemed 

An  Eden,  pure  and  bright, 
Where  Eve  had  not  been  taught  by  sin 

To  hide  her  charms  from  sight 
In  that  soft  clime  it  seemed  unjust 

Pure  symmetry  to  drape ; 
For  what  on  earth's  more  beautiful 

Than  perfect  human  shape  ? 

The  time  thus  passed  on  that  far  isle 

Now  sets  my  heart  aglow ! 
Within  the  halls  of  memory, 

No  finer  pictures  show. 
The  higher  range  of  life  and  thought, 

Then  gave  me  small  concern  ; 
With  minds  impulsive,  young,  and  gay, 

Such  things  are  slow  to  learn. 
At  Sea. 


THE    VOYAGE.  31 


THE  VOYAGE. 

WHEN  came  the  time  to  leave  my  home, 

How  many  things  disturbed  my  heart ! 
For  I  was  bound  the  sea  to  roam, 

Far  from  my  boyish  joys  to  part. 
The  time  had  come  as  I  had  willed, 

And  I  had  longed  to  see  the  day  ; 
But  still,  my  heart  with  grief  was  filled, 

When  came  the  time  to  sail  away. 

My  worried  mind  I  shamed  to  show, 

While  all  at  home  their  grief  displayed ; 
My  parents  even  did  not  know 

The  sacrifice  my  heart  had   made. 
Thus  boyish  pride  my  grief  concealed  j 

It  did  not  seem  a  manly  trait 
To  have  my  homesick  pains  revealed  ; 

Thus  silence  sealed  my  roving  fate. 

I  took  my  leave  without  a  tear, 

Yet  felt  as  though  my  heart  would  break ! 
Disclosure  was  my  greatest  fear, 

For  filial  love  was  all  awake. 
The  ship  soon  from  her  anchors  swung, 

Far  from  my  cherished  shores  to  glide  ; 
The  parting  miles  my  bosom  wrung, 

For  distance  all  home-joys  would  hide. 

So  when  the  ship  had  gained  the  sea, 
And  pilot-boat  had  homeward  turned, 

I  secret  wished  that  I  was  free, 

So  strong  for  home  my  young  heart  yearned 

It  seemed  to  break  the  last  fond  link 
That  bound  to  all  I  loved  in  life  ; 


32  THE    VOYAGE. 

But  duty  said  I  must  not  shrink, 

Which  braced  my  will  to  stem  the  strife. 

How  strange  and  gloomy  was  my  mood, 

The  first  drear  days  I  spent  at  sea ! 
The  ocean  was  a  boundless  flood, 

Without  a  hill,  or  rock,  or  tree. 
The  great  ship,  tossing  up  and  down 

O'er  rolling  waves,  soon  made  me  sick  ; 
While  apprehension's  gloomy  frown, 

My  troubled  heart  touched  to  the  quick. 

The  voyage  then  loomed  so  drear  ahead, 

The  prospect  almost  wrecked  my  thought ; 
But  still  ambition  onward  led, 

And  all  my  troubles  bravely  fought. 
So  when  stern  duty  called  to  mount 

The  giddy  dangers  of  the  mast, 
My  hopeful  heart  began  to  count 

The  dreary  months  the  voyage  must  last. 

Though  pride  a  careless  mind  would  feign, 

For  many  weeks  our  foaming  track 
Was  a  sad  road,  on  ocean's  plain, 

O'er  which  my  mind  oft  travelled  back. 
But  time,  the  soother  of  our  woes, 

Eased  me  of  sea  and  homesick  pain, 
While  I  was  learning  to  oppose 

The  many  dangers  of  the  main. 

My  shipmates  were  a  motley  crew, 
Like  most  of  sailors  on  the  wave  ; 

The  hardship  of  the  sea  well  knew,  — 
Profane,  free  hearted,  kind,  and  brave. 

I  found  a  weather-beaten  face 
Ofttimes  possessed  a  noble  soul ; 


THE    VOYAGE.  33 

With  such  I  passed  the  night  watch  space, 
While  thrilling  deeds  of  skill  were  told. 

My  duties  were  on  deck  and  shroud  ; 

To  loose,  and  furl,  and  reef,  and  steer, 
And  watch  the  threatening  wave  and  cloud, 

And  judge  their  boding,  far  and  near. 
I  learned  to  capture  monster  whales, 

While  they  'mid  dashing  waves  careered, 
I  learned  the  force  of  heavy  gales, 

As  they  to  seamen's  eyes  appeared. 

I  saw  the  storm-king's  dreadful  host 

Collected  from  the  wide-spread  trades, 
To  move  on  some  devoted  coast, 

In  fearful,  devastating  raids. 
Our  ship  at  times  was  in  their  path, 

Contending  with  their  raging  force  ; 
But  skill  and  strength  rode  out  their  wrath, 

And  shaped  our  rugged  ocean  course. 

As  we  our  southern  course  pursued, 

I  saw  each  change  of  heaven's  arch  j 
New  constellations  grand  I  viewed, 

On  their  eternal  western  march. 
A  wondrous  charm  the  heavens  gave, 

In  pointing  out  our  ocean  way ; 
For  on  the  dark  and  threatful  wave, 

They  made  night  trusty  as  the  day. 

I  sailed  the  splendid  tropic  seas, 

Where  blue  isles  in  the  distance  loom, 

And  silver  clouds  sail  on  the  breeze, 

O'er  spray-topped  waves  in  snowy  bloom. 

And  when  the  sea  rolled  glassy  calm, 
The  dolphin's  and  medusa's  shine 
3 


34  THE    VOYAGE. 

Gave  to  the  waves  a  lively  charm, 
While  tardy  sails  rocked  on  the  brine. 

I  saw  great  nature's  grandest  sight, 

Where  mountain  isles  on  ocean  stand, 
The  storm-clouds  lifting  with  their  might, 

While  sounding  billows  washed  their  strand. 
Beneath  their  waters  brue  and  clear, 

The  coral  groves  their  branches  spread  ; 
Our  pleasure  oft  was  fraught  with  fear, 

While  round  their  roaring  reefs  we  sped. 

At  times,  to  break  the  gloom  of  night, 

The  bright  sea-lanterns  lit  the  deep ; 
The  good  ship,  with  her  trail  so  bright, 

Sailecl  like  a  comet  in  her  sweep  ; 
The  whales  and  porpoises,  around, 

Like  meteors  shot  through  the  space  ; 
The  waves,  with  flashing,  weird  fires  crowned, 

Wild  leaping  ran  a  splendid  race. 

We  doubled  dark  grim  southern  capes, 

That  stretched  their  towering  rocks  to  sea, 
While  mountain  waves  in  fearful  shapes 

Broke  dreadful  on  the  good  ship's  lee. 
O  mighty  waves  of  southern  tide, 

Which  roll  your  force  around  the  world, 
You  dash  to  naught  Niag'ra's  pride, 

While  on  grim  shores  your  strength  is  hurled. 

We  sailed  past  high,  dark,  southern  isles, 

Where  albatross  so  grandly  fly, 
And  nature  feels  too  stern  for  smiles, 

And  dreadful  gales  sweep  through  the  sky. 
We  saw  the  southern  icebergs  tower 

Above  the  sea,  so  awful,  grand, 


THE    VOYAGE.  35 

And  felt  how  weak  was  human  power, 
When  measured  by  great  Nature's  hand. 

Thus  sailed  we  years  upon  the  waves, 

Where  strong  gales  blew,  and  currents  flowed ; 
Where  other  sailors  found  their  graves, 

Our  bark  through  every  danger  rode. 
With  pride  she  skimmed  through  clouds  and  spray, 

A  giant  bird,  with  wide  wings  spread ; 
The  ocean's  monsters  were  her  prey, 

While  gallant  o'er  the  seas  she  sped. 

We  tested  her  round  reef  and  shoal ; 

True  to  her  helm,  she  wound  her  way 
By  sunken  rocks  and  breaker's  roll ; 

She  never  once  did  us  betray. 
Strong  hurricanes  she  bravely  fought, 

Where  water-spouts  so  fiercely  rage  ; 
And  gallant  victories  she  wrought, 

On  ocean's  wild  and  rugged  stage. 

She  wafted  us  to  tropic  shores, 

Green,  fragrant  isles  that  bask  in  light, 
Where  maidens  gay,  and  luscious  stores 

The  roving  sailor's  heart  delight. 
There  in  some  smooth,  reflecting  bay, 

Where  towering  mountains  skyward  rear, 
Our  bonny  craft  at  anchor  lay, 

While  nature  gave  our  hearts  good  cheer. 

Her  homeward  way  she  sailed  with  pride, 

A  growing  pleasure  to  my  heart ; 
So  when  she  gained  my  native  tide, 

My  mind  was  sad  from  her  to  part ; 
The  threat'ning  seas  so  long  I'd  read, 

To  guard  her  risky  track  of  foam, 


36  GULF  WEEDS. 

My  heart  was  fairly  to  her  wed, 

So  long  she'd  been  my  roving  home. 

While  nature's  ways  impressed  my  mind, 

The  elements  so  roughly  teach, 
I  saw  somewhat  of  human  kind, 

So  different  in  mode  and  speech. 
Thus  fate  enlarged  my  common  thought 

In  sailing  me  about  the  world, 
Where  nature  in  full  grandeur  wrought, 

And  all  the  seas  and  skies  unfurled. 


GULF  WEEDS.3 

WEEDS  drifting  free, 

Far  out  to  sea, 

The  only  sign  of  earthly  matter 
To  gladden  ocean's  waste  of  water  ; 

Your  slender  leaves ' 

Each  billow  heaves, 
With  golden  berries,  on  the  azure ; 
To  lonely  voyagers'  eyes  a  treasure  ! 

Deep  down  below 

You  graceful  grow ; 
Your  atmosphere  the  clear  sea  water, 
Where  wealth  is  strown  in  every  quarter. 

O'er  deep  sea  graves 

Your  meek  form  waves ; 
Mid  pearls  and  gems  you  show  devotion 
To  lonely  dead,  so  deep  in  ocean. 


GULF  WEEDS.  37 

Vales  where  you  grow 

Your  end  ne'er  know  ; 
All  fresh  you  rise  to  upper  regions, 
To  float  the  ocean  waves  in  legions. 

Swift  dolphin  bright 

In  you  delight : 

You  form  your  bowers,  it  seems  on  purpose, 
For  albicore,  and  sporting  porpoise. 

No  other  plant 

Has  dared  to  haunt 
The  central  waves  of  the  Atlantic, 
Where  ocean  monsters  roam  gigantic. 

To  you,  brave  weed, 

We  trace  the  deed, 
So  we  are  told  in  ancient  story, 
That  gained  the  sailor's  greatest  glory. 

Our  thought  goes  back 

A  long,  dim  track  ; 

When  Colon  sought  the  western  nation, 
What  strength  you  gave  his  navigation. 

Our  western  world 

So  secret  furled, 

Could  the  brave  sailor  e'er  have  found  it, 
Had  you  not  spread  strong  hopes  around  it  ? 

When  all  signs  failed, 

He  must  have  hailed 
You  as  his  hope  and  only  cheerer, 
In  strength'ning  faith  that  land  grew  nearer. 


38  GULF  WEEDS. 

Each  anxious  day 

You  strewed  his  way  ; 
Enticing  thus  the  brave  beginner 
To  be  the  first  great  ocean  winner. 

Thus  you  did  lead 

One  mighty  deed, 
Enough  to  make  you  famous  ever ; 
Fit  wreath  to  crown  such  brave  endeavor. 

No  plant  on  land 

Should  twine  the  band 
To  crown  the  brow  of  ocean's  spirit ; 
While  you  of  all  this  right  inherit. 

Long  may  you  ride 

The  rugged  tide, 

To  graceful  cheer  the  stormy  ocean, 
While  strong  winds  set  huge  waves  in  motion, 

Long  may  you  strew 

The  ocean  blue, 

And  grace  the  paths  brave  ships  are  sailing, 
Proud  victors  o'er  the  seas  prevailing. 
At  Sea,  1861. 


OCEAN.  39 

OCEAN. 
PART  I. 

VAST  ocean  space  !  long  unexplained 
Your  fearful  rolling  depth  remained, 

Wide  parting  land  from  land  ; 
The  mind  of  man  long  had  to  grow, 
Before  it  could  your  limits  know, 

Or  your  vast  waters  band. 

The  light  of  day  could  only  view 

But  half  your  size  ;  your  bulk  none  knew, 

For  knowledge  had  not  strown 
Extensive  rays  enough  to  light 
The  whole  creation  to  man's  sight, 

Revealing  your  great  zone. 

Thus  you  for  dreary  ages  rolled, 

A  lonesome  blank,  from  pole  to  pole, 

Vast,  fearful,  and  unknown  ; 
A  problem  hard  for  man  to  solve, 
But  which  his  soul  at  length  resolved ; 

Then  his  best  talents  shone. 

This  task  God  gave  to  man,  no  doubt, 
To  draw  his  vast  resources  out, 

Of  courage,  skill,  and  strength  : 
For  every  force  which  had  been  given 
To  rule  the  world  and  raise  to  heaven, 

This  problem  tasked,  at  length. 

At  first,  man  trod  your  threatful  shore 
With  timid  steps,  vain  to  explore 
The  limits  of  your  reach  ; 


4°  OCEAN. 

What  met  his  eye  in  that  dire  glance  ? 
Huge  terrors  loomed  o'er  your  expanse, 
And  wild  waves  dashed  your  beach. 

His  fears  were  not  so  groundless,  when 
Your  anger  swelled  ;  he  saw  you  then 

All  ready  to  engage 
Such  elements  as  madly  meet ; 
Their  giant  forces  you  would  greet, 

With  an  o'erwhelming  rage. 

Your  charging  waves  in  white  plumes  dashed, 
Where  fearful  tempests  loudly  flashed 

To  light  the  dreadful  fray  ; 
While  on  the  dire  and  mighty  field, 
All  other  force  to  you  must  yield ; 

You  always  won  the  day. 

A  force  like  yours  none  could  exhaust, 
For  you  gained  strength  while  others  lost ; 

So  all  would  yield  the  ground. 
Your  foaming  chargers  coursed  the  main, 
While  all  spectators  saw  you  gain 

A  potent  sway  around. 

Man's  mind  with  superstition  blurred, 
He  fancied  your  dark  depths  were  stirred 

By  huge  destructive  hosts. 
He  saw  them  delving  in  your  tide  ; 
His  puny  strength  they  there  defied, 

And  frightened  all  the  coasts. 

All  fearless  then  your  monsters  roamed  ; 
Their  white  spouts  shot  along  the  foam, 
Amid  the  spray  to  fade. 


OCEAN.  41 

All  free  from  harm,  they  joyous  leaped, 
And  high  in  air  the  white  foam  heaped, 
As  they  so  hugely  played. 

The  monstrous  terrors  of  your  wave 
Were  more  than  ignorance  could  brave  ; 

So  your  unfathomed  space, 
That  widely  parted  land  from  land, 
Knew  nothing  of  the  mind  that  planned 

Your  mighty  field  to  trace. 

Man  title  held  from  God  to  be 
The  ruler  of  both  land  and  sea  ; 

Besides,  he  had  the  will. 
But  e'er  he  could  dominion  gain, 
Long  was  the  strife  of  fear  and  pain, 

Which  tested  all  his  skill. 

At  times  you  would  with  pleasant  gale 
Invite  man  on  your  waves  to  sail, 

So  treacherous  to  smite  ; 
Your  stormy  waves  oft  rose  so  quick, 
Your  very  motion  made  him  sick, 

In  the  unequal  fight. 

The  unskilled  victim  of  your  wrath 
Must  drown  or  famish  in  your  path ; 

Thus  you  kept  back  the  right 
Of  man  to  rule  upon  your  main, 
For  all  his  strivings  were  in  vain, 

Without  a  higher  light. 

But  in  this  contest  you  awoke 
Man's  crowning  force,  with  which  he  broke 
Your  long  terrific  power  ; 


OCEAN. 

For  tardy  science,  slumbering  long, 

Awoke  at  length  to  right  the  wrong ; 

No  longer  need  man  cower. 

This  higher  power  called  every  aid, 
Till  terrors  vanished  like  the  shade, 

While  heavenly  orbs  so  bright 
Unerringly  the  azure  ride, 
And  shed  their  cheering  rays,  to  guide 

Throughout  the  day  and  night. 

With  those  sure  guides,  man  left  the  strand, 
And  boldly  sought  for  other  land, 

With  his  adventurous  sails. 
Rife  with  the  force  which  made  him  soar 
To  other  worlds  to  help  explore, 

His  enterprise  prevails. 

Before,  man  cast  his  gaze  on  air, 
With  ignorant  or  stupid  stare, 

Or  else  with  dire  alarm. 
The  skies  in  vain  their  beauties  lent ; 
His  mind  with  superstition  bent, 

He  looked  for  naught  but  harm. 

How  long  to  man  the  moon  did  show 
The  earth's  round  form,  amid  her  glow, 

Which  mind  could  not  detect 
Till  science  told  what  eyes  discerned, 
Without  which  man  could  ne'er  have  learned 

The  truths  which  heaven  reflect. 

But  when  true  science  woke  the  soul, 
It  bade  the  secret  skies  unroll, 
And  elements  disarm. 


OCEAN.  43 

Then  o'er  vast  seas,  of  old  so  feared, 
His  searching  bark  safe  onward  steered, 
Disdaining  all  alarm. 

New  isles  and  continents  were  found  ; 
Yet,  not  content,  man  soon  sailed  round 

Your  great  and  boundless  sphere. 
He  found  the  earth  in  your  embrace, 
Far,  unknown  isles  and  shores  he  traced, 

And  conquered  every  fear. 

Now  man  has  proved  his  heavenly  guides, 
He  launches  fleets,  and  o'er  you  glides, 

Majestic,  free,  and  bold  ; 
He  finds  the  shores  your  reaches  bound, 
His  plummets  your  deep  caverns  sound, 

Besides  each  reef  and  shoal. 

Thus  your  worst  fears  from  man  have  fled ; 
By  science  and  experience  led, 

He  knows  your  depth  and  air. 
His  fleets  take  vantage  of  their  force, 
And  safe  pursue  their  distant  course, 

Your  space  his  thoroughfare. 

Though  you  may  wreck  man's  single  might, 
Still  you  take  nothing  from  his  right; 

No  more  than  one  wave  stilled 
Would  now  be  missed  on  your  wide  grounds ; 
The  ruling  mind  that  sways  your  bounds 

Is  constant  growing  skilled. 

How  proud  the  scene  for  man  to-day, 
While  swift,  strong  engines  force  their  way 
Against  your  dashing  strength  ; 


OCEAN. 

The  fastest  swimmers  of  your  space 
Are  left  exhausted  in  the  race, 
And  yield  to  skill  at  length. 

Your  monsters  have  a  master  found, 
Since  man  made  you  his  hunting-ground  ; 

How  long  did  they  defy ! 
They  were  the  lords  of  your  vast  field  ; 
Yet  even  they  to  man  must  yield, 

With  all  your  smaller  fry. 

Yes,  ocean,  on  your  vantage  ground, 
Man's  skill  your  monsters'  forte  must  sound 

They  all  must  stand  the  test. 
How  soon  your  azure  flood  is  red 
With  blood  from  your  gigantic  dead, 

And  fear  is  with  the  rest ! 

Your  living  monsters  flee  in  fear, 
When  man  pursues  with  deadly  gear, 

And  hide  in  some  far  sea ; 
But  skill  and  boldness  seek  them  out, 
Your  distant  seas  submit  to  rout ; 

Man  rules  with  title  fee. 

Your  deep,  which  long  divided  land, 
The  magic  telegraph  doth  band, 

To  send,  with  lightning's  speed, 
Man's  messages  through  your  abyss  : 
The  palsied  world  gains  life  through  this, 

So  all  your  bonds  are  freed. 

Far  out  at  sea  a  brave  bark  rides, 
Strong,  swift,  and  graceful  o'er  your  tides  ; 
Hark  !  hear  that  thunder  power  ! 


OCEAN.  45 

The  storm-king's  voice  is  on  the  deep, 
His  dreadful  form  is  roused  from  sleep, 
All  see  his  dark  form  lower. 

Our  bark,  warned  by  the  threatful  main, 
Strips  for  the  battle,  to  maintain 

The  fearless  skill  of  man  ; 
The  king  of  storms  is  at  his  post, 
Wide  marshalling  as  mad  a  host 

As  ever  mortals  scan. 

Look  I  part  are  ghastly  pale  with  rage  ; 
Part  frowning  dark,  fierce  to  engage  ; 

And  part  in  wreathing  coils, 
Where  from  each  serpent-looking  head, 
The  lapping  lightning  flashes  red, 
While  ocean  madly  boils. 

The  storm -fiends  with  wild  fury  heave  ; 
A  host  more  dire  none  can  conceive  ; 

Hark  !  they  are  rending  off, 
The  shackles  their  worst  madness  bound  ! 
The  riven  bolts  they  clash,  to  sound 

Their  frenzy  high  aloft ! 

Fierce  water-spouts  tall  standards  raise, 
By  strong  clouds  borne,  amid  the  haze, 

Who  trumpet  sharp  and  loud  ; 
The  sea  is  blown  like  desert  sand  ; 
Down  on  our  bark,  this  hellish  band 

With  all  their  terrors  crowd. 

They  strike  with  a  tremendous  shock  ; 
Such  force  would  shake  the  firmest  rock. 
While  the  tornado's  yell 


46  OCEAN. 

The  loudest  thunderbolts  doth  drown  ; 
Our  bark,  though  deluged,  holds  her  ground, 
Amid  the  dashing  swell. 

Through  labors  dire,  her  tireless  form 
Contends  with  the  destroying  storm, 

Surmounting  every  fear  ; 
While  marching  through  the  raging  sea, 
Her  sailors  from  all  fear  are  free, 

For  victory  to  steer. 

Full  well  they  know  the  storms  will  cease, 
Again  the  sea  will  smile  in  peace, 

While  gentle  breezes  charm  ; 
Their  bark,  then  mistress  of  the  wave, 
Her  mettled  sides  will  fearless  lave, 

Secure  from  every  harm. 

How  graceful  o'er  the  sea  she  moves ! 
Her  proud  and  gallant  bearing  proves 

She  would  not  yield  to  strife. 
From  curving  bows  the  spray  she  flings, 
Her  sails  move  through  the  air  like  wings ; 

She  seems  a  thing  of  life. 

This  cruiser  of  the  sea  and  air 
With  her  constructer  will  compare, 

For  no  one  knows  her  end  — 
Her  guides  above,  her  course  below, 
Until  beneath  some  fatal  blow, 

We  see  her  form  descend. 

Like  all  man's  work,  she  yields  to  fate, 
But  leaves  presage  like  to  create, 
And  hope  on  future  throws  ; 


OCEAN.  47 


The  magnet  that  has  shaped  her  course 
Is  like  the  soul's  directing  force, 
That  no  destruction  knows. 

This  magnet  power  will  be  the  guide 
Of  all  the  future  fleets  to  glide. 

So  man's  immortal  mind 
Will  live  to  guide  all  future  life  ; 
Forever  growing  in  the  strife, 

How  much  will  be  defined ! 

Man  built  proud  temples  on  the  sod, 
Which  ages  stood,  huge  gifts  to  God ; 

But  still  they  lacked  the  force 
To  draw  his  mind  around  the  earth  ; 
His  floating  temples  first  gave  birth 

To  our  great  modern  course. 

Our  floating  temples  have  a  charm, 
In  cloudless  night,  when  all  is  calm, 

Out  on  the  mirrored  sea ; 
Earth  vanishes  amid  the  glow, 
All  seems  like  space  above,  below  — 

A  glorious  place  to  be  ! 

The  ship  seems  like  a  spirit  thing, 
Supported  by  an  unseen  wing, 

Where  thought  can  range  at  will. 
On  such  a  voyage  the  mind  is  taught 
Eternity,  expanding  thought  ; 

God's  power  the  soul  doth  fill. 

This  spirit  roaming  proves  a  theme 
Fit  for  immortals  here  to  dream, 
While  it  instructs  the  soul  ; 


48  OCEAN. 

What  mighty  things  our  minds  detect ! 
Uncounted  worlds  our  thoughts  connect, 
As  heavens  vast  unroll. 

Our  thoughts  then  easily  embrace 
This  world  of  ours,  our  mortal  place ; 

What  love  for  it  we  feel ! 
The  faithful  nurse  of  life's  first  germ  ; 
The  dear  home  of  our  mortal  term  ; 

Eternity's  great  seal. 


PART  II. 

GREAT  ocean,  when  man  floats  for  years 
Upon  your  waves,  amid  your  fears, 

And  your  aquaintance  gains, 
Your  works  are  so  far  understood, 
He  sees  the  universal  good 

The  world  from  you  obtains. 

Thou  great  and  wondrous  type  of  life, 
'Mid  throes  of  elemental  strife 

Your  main  flood  rushes  warm  ; 
From  tropic  centre  to  the  poles, 
Your  mighty  circulation  rolls 

Vast  wonders  to  perform. 

Green  isles  are  nursed  in  your  embrace  ; 
And  then  to  your  warm  life  are  traced 

The  rain-clouds,  lavish  strown  ; 
A  vast  creation's  working  power  ; 
So  you  can  ever  blessings  shower  ; 

O'er  each  dependent  zone. 


OCEAN.  49 

Earth's  millions  now  inhale  your  breath, 
All  living  things  you  keep  from  death  ; 

Yet  many  never  know 
What  they  inherit  from  your  waves. 
Man's  fruitful  vales  would  turn  to  graves, 

Should  your  life  cease  to  flow. 

Your  pulsatory  tide  now  tells 
The  mighty  life  that  in  you  dwells  ; 

From  you  all  lands  conceive, 
For  land  alone  ne'er  could  give  birth 
To  teeming  life  which  fills  the  earth  ; 

Thus  you  all  things  retrieve. 

Your  power  is  felt  amid  the  hills, 
Your  far-sent  rain  some  river  fills, 

Whose  banks  for  bread  is  sown. 
And  while  you  turn  the  factory's  wheel, 
Man  cannot  help  but  think  or  feel 

How  much  to  life  you  loan. 

Your  music  all  the  regions  cheer  ; 
From  grove  and  rill  glad  tones  we  hear, 

You  tune  all  nature's  lays  ; 
Great  rivers  down  their  reaches  flow, 
Returning  debts  the  "highlands  owe, 

With  songs  of  grateful  praise. 

You  furnish  substance  for  the  clouds, 
Whose  beauty  the  vast  heaven  crowds, 

And  splendid  arches  bow  ; 
How  gay  they  float  in  sunlight  sheen, 
To  form  o'er  earth  the  grandest  scene 

That  man  conceives  below ! 
4 


50  OCEAN. 

Ofttimes  beneath  the  summer  breeze, 
You  show  your  potency  to  please, 

On  some  bright  rippling  bay. 
Your  happy  face  beams  on  the  sky, 
Along  the  shores  you  gently  sigh, 

With  coves  and  isles  you  play. 

Your  waves  soothe  all  within  their  reach ; 
The  bathers  hasten  to  your  beach, 

To  lie  in  your  embrace  ; 
Your  soft  touch  yields  a  pleasing  thrill, 
Through  which  we  feel  earth's  love  instill ; 

Her  smiles  are  on  your  face* 

Along  the  shore  we  hear  your  speech. 
What  noble  lessons  you  there  teach, 

From  nature's  works  so  grand  ! 
You  sermonize  with  power  and  ease, 
And  give  impressions  from  your  seas 

We  never  get  from  land. 

With  soothing  hands,  that  naught  can  tire, 
You  sound  the  notes  of  nature's  lyre  : 

And  in  the  distance  tost, 
Man's  laden  fleets,  with  graceful  force, 
You  speed  upon  their  changing  course  ; 

No  task  can  you  exhaust. 

But  when  the  winds  have  raised  your  rage, 
You  show  a  force  that  naught  can  gauge, 

To  dash  the  stubborn  land  ; 
Your  breakers  strike  the  solid  shore, 
Until  all  trembles,  while  you  roar 

Along  the  foaming  strand. 


OCEAN,  51 

Your  might  recalls  your  polar  war ; 
A  sight  so  fearful  fills  with  awe 

The  bravest  hearts  that  sail  \ 
Amid  the  realms  of  winter's  king  ; 
Stupendous  forces  he  doth  bring, 

With  your  strength  to  prevail. 

The  frost-king's  castles  tower  on  high, 
And  show  their  splendor  on  the  sky  ; 

They  form  a  fearful  line. 
Then  your  strong  arms  deal  potent  blows, 
And  prove  a  force  that  overthrows, 

Though  all  his  powers  combine. 

But  while  the  frost-king's  front  thins  out, 
He  shows  yet  stronger  force  to  rout  ; 

His  glacier  mountain  host 
For  ages,  like  some  corsair  power, 
Have  captured  clouds  you  sent  to  shower 

Upon  some  milder  coast. 

Thus  they  have  added  to  their  might, 
And  reared  their  heads  above  the  night, 

To  mock  the  far  off  sun  ; 
In  borealis  light  they  robe  ; 
Those  cold  proud  robbers  of  the  globe, 

No  power  on  earth  will  shun. 

And  when  the  sun  their  armor  lights, 
An  awful  grandeur  crowns  their  heights  ; 

Thus  they  attract  your  rage. 
.  Your  marshaled  waves  then  know  no  fear ; 
With  summer  bringing  up  the  rear, 

They  fearlessly  engage. 


52  OCEAN. 

Unawed  before  the  frost-king's  face, 
You  strike  his  mountain  rampart  base, 

Until  his  strongholds  shake  ; 
So  when  you  deal  a  fatal  lunge, 
They  make  a  most  tremendous  plunge, 

For  your  wide  jaws  to  take. 

It  is  a  grand  and  awful  sight ! 
Your  jaws  perform  a  monstrous  bite 

In  seizing  such  huge  prey. 
Convulsions  dreadful  swell  around, 
Before  the  death-growls  all  are  drowned, 

Your  hungry  maw  to  stay. 

Thus  none  save  you  can  take  their  own 
From  glacier  heights,  the  frost-king's  throne. 

How  easy  you  digest 
His  monster  bergs,  to  cool  the  heat 
The  tropic  sun  has  on  you  beat, 

In  your  world-wide  unrest! 

Thus  you  defeat  the  world's  extremes, 
While  your  wide  agency  redeems 

The  earth  from  many  harms. 
All  stand  in  awe  of  your  great  force, 
And  all  admire  your  mighty  course, 

So  full  of  fears  and  charms. 

Naught  has  exalted  man  like  you  ; 
His  contest  with  your  rule  long  drew 

On  his  exhaustless  mind  ; 
Although  you  never  found  its  length, 
You  greatly  added  to  the  strength 

Of  its  eternal  line. 


THE   AQUATIC  DREAM.  53 

Let  all  who  sail  amid  your  hosts, 
And  all  who  view  you  from  the  coasts, 

And  all  in  remote  lands, 
Have  buoyancy  of  soul  to  lift 
Their  thanks  to  God  for  such  a  gift, 

From  his  almighty  hands. 
At  Sea,  1857. 


THE   AQUATIC    DREAM. 

ON  tropical  seas  where  my  light  bark  was  sailing, 
The  sun  in  full  splendor  shone  warm  on  the  deep  ; 

Down  in  the  clear  water 'his  bright  beams  prevailing, 
So  all  through  the  ocean  broad  daylight  could  sweep. 

I  gazed  from  the  deck  on  the  clear  waves  below  me, 
And  let  my  wild  fancy  so  lead  me  astray, 

Like  a  bird  in  the  air,  I  flew  through  the  bright  sea ; 
What  wonders  I  passed,  as  I  sped  on  my  way ! 

My  flight  took  its  course  to  a  bright  coral  valley, 

Which  lay  amid  mountains  that  marked  the  wide  space  ; 

I  passed  marine  ledges  where  bright  fishes  dally, 

To  light  amid  splendors  which  thronged  the  gay  place. 

The  spot  I  first  sought  was  a  vale  pleasant  bowered, 
Which  wore  all  the  hues  of  an  autumnal  sky, 

While  high  on  its  boundings  vast  coral  reefs  towered  ; 
How  splendid  and  lofty  they  seemed  to  the  eye  ! 

I  saw  spread  around  me  the  wealth  of  the  ocean, 
Where  rich  tropic  colors  so  beauteous  blend  ; 

Like  bees  around  flowers  gay  fish  were  in  motion, 
To  deep  marine  bowers  their  brightness  to  lend. 


54  THE   AQUATIC  DREAM. 

Extending  my  view  up  the  sides  of  the  mountains, 
What  splendid  arched  grottoes  bedazzled  my  gaze  ! 

Their  bright  columns  showing  like  shoots  from  clear  foun 

tains, 
While  gems  of  rare  beauty  their  cornices  blazed. 

It  seemed  to  me  strange,  from  that  medium  eying 
The  ponderous  monsters  which  dwelt  in  its  space  ; 

They  moved  through  the  water,  like  clouds  in  air  flying ; 
I  gazed  full  of  wonder  their  movements  to  trace. 

High  up  in  the  heavens,  rich  freighted  with  treasure, 
Great  ships  moved  along  with  a  wonderful  sway  ; 

Their  metaled  breasts  shone  as  they  shot  through  the 

azure, 
Thus  lighting  their  track  as  they  sped  on  their  way. 

The  currents  move  slow  in  that  deep  marine  region, 
tBut  still  'twas  not  hushed,  for  there  broke  on  my  ear 

Strange  sounds  with  no  echo,  the  noise  of  a  legion ; 
While  waves'  mellow  swashing  aloft  I  could  hear. 

Gay  over  this  valley,  like  larks  in  the  morning, 
The  porpoises  whistled  a  shrill,  lively  air  ; 

The  whale's  coarser  notes  gave  the  cuttle-fish  warning 
To  form  their  dark  clouds  and  secrete  themselves  there. 

The  fierce  shark,  and  killer,  I  saw  wildly  hover, 
And  in  their  swift  circles,  so  eagerly  sight 

The  vast  schools  of  fishes,  that  vain  would  seek  cover  ; 
Like  flocks  of  wild  sea-fowl,  they  rushed  in  their  fright. 

Those  wide  flooded  regions,  by  man  unexplored, 
Were  not  like  the  deserts  that  waste  the  dry  land, 

For  all  its  vast  space  was  with  shoals  of  fish  stored  ; 
Some  shining  like  brilliants,  and  some  hugely  grand. 


THE  AQUATIC  DREAM.  55 

It  seemed  to  me  strange  that  the  God  of  creation 

Should   drown   such    vast  wealth    as    the   deep    ocean 
bounds, 

And  thus  keep  removed  from  the  eyes  of  all  nations 
The  beauty  and  treasure  that  pave  its  vast  grounds. 

On  gazing  around  o'er  the  objects  extended, 
I  saw  sunken  wrecks,  so  disastrously  strown, 

Their  consuming  dead,  on  which  love  had  depended, 
Were  everywhere  scattered,  like  autumn  leaves  blown. 

While  musing  so  deep  on  their  skeletons  bleaching, 
My  mind  soared  above,  to  the  world's  higher  sphere  ; 

I  thought  of  affection  for  lost  ones  beseeching, 

And  love,  purer  grown  by  its  grief  cleansing  tears. 

I  thought  of  the  spirit  that  floated  yet  higher, 
To  heaven's  bright  regions,  its  fond  resting-place, 

Where  love  and  affection,  and  all  good  desire, 
At  length  find  a  home,  so  exalting  to  trace. 

Amid  the  grand  objects  the  vast  waters  bounded, 
A  huge  mountain  towered,  majestic  in  light ; 

Its  deepest  foundations  had  never  been  sounded  ; 
With  grandeur  and  beauty  it  rose  on  my  sight. 

Upon  its  vast  steeps,  like  the  hues  of  a  rainbow, 
The  bright  coral  reefs  with  their  sharp  angles  laid  ; 

Rich  clusters  of  gems  were  surrounded  by  halo, 

To  light  their  deep  caverns,  where  golden  fish  played. 

Such  shells  as  rejoice  in  their  raiments  of  splendor, 
Were  strown  o'er  its  borders  in  purple  and  gold : 

Down  shone  the  bright  sunbeams,  fresh  beauty  to  render, 
Which  made  this  great  mountain  so  bright  to  behold. 


56  THE  AQUATIC  DREAM. 

Bright  glowing  with  grandeur  this  proud  mountain  tow 
ered, 

Until  its  heights  pierced  the  aerial  zone  ; 
Then  higher  aloft,  where  the  ocean  mists  showered, 

Its  tall  summit  mounted,  majestic,  alone. 

I  soared  up  its  sides  with  the  dolphin  and  porpoise  ; 

We  floated  on  pinions  light  seeming  as  air, 
While  others  soon  joined,  with  the  whale,  and  sea  tortoise, 

The  playful,  and  monstrous,  and  gaudy,  and  rare. 

To  breathe  the  fresh  air,  to  the  waves  we  ascended  ; 

Where  spouted   and    gamboled    each   strange   marine 

band. 
I  swam  to  my  bark,  where  my  dream  journey  ended, 

When  lo  !  the  great  mountain  was  turned  to  dry  land. 

While  scanning  its  steeps  which  arose  from  the  ocean, 
I  thought  of  its  base,  which  its  deep  waters  shroud, 

With  all  the  vast  changes  of  different  portions, 
From  its  bounds  in  the  sea,  to  its  peak  in  the  cloud. 

While  lay  the  great  mountain  on  azure  sea  smiling, 

It  looked  so  inviting,  I  longed  to  repair 
To  green  shady  bowers,  my  fancy  beguiling 

With  dreams  of  the  sea,  and  its  wonders  so  rare. 

Great  spirit  of  nature  !  what  beauties  you've  stored, 
Through  all  the  vast  regions  of  sea,  sky,  and  land  ; 

And  wide  o'er  the  whole,  cheerful  sunshine  have  poured, 
Displaying  the  wonderful  works  of  your  hand. 
At  Sea,  1858. 


THE   SEA    WORM.  57 


THE  SEA  WORM. 

MY  life  is  broadcast  as  the  waves, 
That  move  upon  the  ocean's  space ; 

My  greedy  maw  forever  craves 
For  all  the  driftwood  on  its  face. 

Where  are  the  great  trees  that  sweep  down 
A  thousand  streams  from  forest  hills  ? 

They  surely  do  not  rot  or  drown, 
Nor  yet  their  drift  the  ocean  fills. 

Where  are  the  thousand  yearly  wrecks, 
The  elements  have  cast  away  ; 

And  driven  life  from  off  their  decks,  — 
Where  are  they  all,  the  wreckers  say  ? 

The  slender  gulf  weeds  floating  free, 
For  whose  destruction  none  combine, 

Now  strew  the  ocean's  central  sea, 
Preserved  by  the  Atlantic  brine. 

The  salts  of  ocean  would  preserve 
Its  driftwood  for  a  thousand  years, 

Did  not  my  tooth  so  constant  serve, 

To  clear  the  track  the  brave  ship  steers. 

Though  I  may  gnaw  the  good  ship's  keel, 
Let  no  man  curse  my  auger  tooth, 

Or  seek  my  doings  to  repeal, 

While  I  am  working  good,  forsooth. 

Through  me  alone  the  wide  sea's  foam 
Is  free  from  wrecks  and  floating  wood  ; 


58  THE  SEA    WORM. 

I  bore  them  like  a  honey-comb, 

And  thus  keep  clear  the  sailor's  road. 

The  mighty  Gulf  Stream  constant  moves 
From  New  World  shores,  with  all  its  drift ; 

And  still  the  beach  of  Europe  proves 
How  little  through  my  gna wings  sift. 

Thus  through  long  years,  from  land  to  land, 
Strong  currents  swept  the  ocean's  field  ; 

Yet  naught  could  float  far  from  the  strand  ; 
Thus  I  the  New  World  long  concealed. 

So,  through  my  busy  working  jaws, 
The  fate  of  nations  has  been  changed  ; 

So  curious  are  nature's  laws, 

Throughout  their  wide,  exhaustless  range. 

For  ages  nature's  forces  lurk, 

While  toiling  for  a  useful  end, 
So  slow  is  man  to  note  the  work 

On  which  his  fates  so  much  depend. 

In  every  part  of  nature's  bounds, 

Vast  hidden  powers  are  working  now; 

A  universe  of  unknown  grounds 
Invites  the  mind's  exploring  prow. 


THE  NORTHEAST  TRADE-WINDS.  59 

THE   NORTHEAST   TRADE-WINDS.4 

I  COME  from  the  East,  where  most  things  arise, 

Of  greatest  import  to  creation, 
First  roaming  the  sands  'neath  African  skies, 

With  drought  killing  all  vegetation  ;  ^ 
O'er  hot  desert  wastes,  so  barren  and  wide, 

With  sand  clouds  and  sand  drifts  I  travel, 
All  o'er  the  drear  land  to  Atlantic's  tide, 

My  course  showing  nothing  but  evil. 

Long  reason  has  asked  why  such  a  wide  space 

Is  doomed  to  a  wild  desolation  ; 
O  !  why  should  it  mar  so  much  of  earth's  face, 

In  zones  of  the  world's  insolation  ? 
Since  all  time  has  shown  a  great  sacrifice 

Is  made  for  all  good  we  inherit, 
That  nature  so  rules  should  give  no  surprise, 

So  even  the  deserts  have  merit. 

Dry  dust  like  a  smoke  is  borne  through  the  sky, 

The  work  of  my  hot  desert  marches. 
I  waft  it  to  sea,  all  heated  and  dry, 

Which  Africa's  isles  often  parches. 
But  soon  this  is  changed  ;  on  leaving  the  sand, 

My  strength  with  the  ocean  is  married, 
To  work  out  the  laws  which  nature  has  planned  ; 

So  rain  to  the  New  World  is  carried. 

While  onward  I  sweep  from  hot  desert  glare, 

To  ruffle  Atlantic's  wide  ocean, 
The  vapors  I  raise  soon  fill  all  the  air, 

While  water  and  clouds  are  in  motion. 
Beneath  the  hot  mist,  a  thousand  miles  wide, 

The  waves  follow  with  me  in  billions  ; 


60  THE  NORTHEAST  TRADE-WINDS. 

The  sea  fairly  smokes  with  heat  as  I  glide, 
My  breath  wafting  moisture  to  millions. 

Fair  India's  tall  isles  claim  part  of  my  freight, 

While  making  my  long  western  travel  ; 
The  waves,  as  they  roll,  keep  pace  with  my  gait, 

Thus  raising  the  great  ocean's  level. 
Fast  onward  I  go,  to  far  western  land, 

For  freedom's  fair  world,  water  freighting, 
An  almighty  work,  and  so  it's  well  planned,  — 

A  fact  to  the  world  worth  relating. 

The  currents  I  cause  to  run  off  the  seas, 

Which  in  the  wide  gulf  I  am  heaping, 
Are  warming  far  lands  the  Arctic  would  freeze 

Warmth  gained  by  the  great  desert  sweeping. 
For  thousands  of  years  this  v.ork  I  had  done, 

Yet  man  was  no  better  or  wiser, 
Until  Colon  thought  a  world  could  be  won  ; 

Long  wished  I  for  such  a  surrniser. 

The  great  sailor  took  my  track  for  his  course  ; 

How  long  I  had  sighed  for  the  rover  ! 
I  worked  with  a  will  his  vessel  to  force 

To  the  lands  he  so  longed  to  discover ; 
My  waves  bore  him  on  so  fast,  that  his  crew, 

Were  cheated  in  distance  of  sailing  ; 
His  heart  kept  its  cheer,  so  steady  I  bie\v, 

My  force  through  all  dangers  prevailing. 

I  drove  him  to  land,  a  land  good  to  see, 
The  land  of  my  whole  consummation  ; 

So  that  the  New  World  may  give  thanks  to  me 
For  aiding  its  civilization  ; 

For  no  other  land  on  the  face  of  the  earth 
Is  nature  such  forces  employing, 


THE  NORTHEAST  TRADE-WINDS.  6 1 

Where  freedom  of  man  receives  a  new  birth, 
All  rights  and  all  comforts  enjoying. 

While  Mexico's  swamps  are  drenched  with  my  rains, 

Far  northward  wide  blessings  I'm  spreading ; 
For  each  southern  breeze  takes  all  that  remains, 

O'er  wide  Northern  States  water  shedding. 
To  keep  off  my  rains  no  tall  mountains  rear, 

Far  west  are  those  sky  resting  stations ; 
All  o'er  the  broad  slope  my  rain  clouds  may  steer, 

A  blessing  to  all  generations. 

The  great  western  lakes,  a  continent's  pride, 

Are  filled  by  the  clouds  of  my  making  ; 
They  sound  forth  my  praise  at  Niagara's  tide, 

Whose  roar  sets  the  earth  fairly  shaking. 
Where  under  the  sun  has  labor  such  yield, 

On  land  of  such  grand  irrigation, 
Designed,  thank  the  Lord !  for  freedom  to  wield, 

The  fairest  and  best  in  creation. 

Now  view  the  wide  field  this  new  country  shows, 

Long  drained  by  the  earth's  longest  river  ; 
All  o'er  its  wide  slopes,  my  labor  bestows 

The  wealth  of  the  great  and  good  Giver. 
With  such  a  vast  force  for  man  working  good, 

Great  nature  makes  easy  our  living ; 
As  her  wonderful  works  are  more  understood, 

We  learn  more  of  cause  for  thanksgiving. 
At  Sea,  1 86 1. 


62  KINGS  OF  THE    WEATHER. 


KINGS  OF  THE   WEATHER. 

LONG  weeks  had  passed  of  bright  new  year, 
But  still  the  frost-king  ruled  severe  ; 
From  Delaware  to  Hudson's  Bay, 
The  frozen  lands  portrayed  his  sway. 
The  slanting  sunshine,  scarcely  felt, 
Had  little  force  his  bonds  to  melt ; 
The  snow  lay  deep  on  plain  and  hill, 
And  northwest  winds  swept  clear  and  chill, 
With  strong  ice  binding  lake  and  river, 
And  causing  man  and  beast  to  shiver ; 
While  heated  hearths  were  in  a  roar, 
To  keep  his  rigor  out  of  door. 

Not  satisfied  to  rule  the  land, 
He  sought  control  beyond  the  strand. 
With  bitter  cold  he  swept  the  sea, 
To  still  the  waves  that  rolled  so  free. 
His  freezing  force  bound  reach  and  bay, 
Embargoing  the  ships  that  lay 
Along  the  wharves,  all  rigged  to  roam ; 
While  those  at  sea,  returning  home, 
Were  crippled  by  his  freezing  gale, 
Which  made  good  folks  on  land  bewail 
Their  o'erdue  friends  thus  blown  off  shore, 
With  worried  hearts,  chilled  to  the  core. 
Their  ships,  assailed  by  frost  and  sleet, 
Were  forced  to  make  a  sad  retreat, 
Within  the  Gulf  Stream's  melting  flow 
To  gain  a  refuge  from  their  foe ; 
Yet  there  the  refugees  soon  found 
Another  force  ruled  nature's  ground. 

For  there  the  storm-king  made  his  raids, 
With  cloudy  forces  from  the  trades  ; 


KINGS  OF   THE    WEATHER.  63 

Who  saw  the  frost-king's  growing  power, 

And  how  brave  ships  were  forced  to  cower ; 

Ships  that  had  dared  his  own  strong  force, 

And  would  not  for  him  yield  their  course. 

It  seemed  to  him  the  frost-king's  pride 

Aspired  to  rule  Atlantic's  tide. 

This  was  enough  to  rouse  his  ire, 

And  set  his  jealous  heart  on  fire. 

His  temper,  always  prone  to  smite, 

Soon  showed  an  eagerness  to  fight, 

In  thundering  his  vengeful  rage 

For  storming  forces  to  engage. 

Though  far  and  wide  his  storms  careered, 

At  his  loud  call  they  soon  appeared  ; 

And  while  they  came,  a  threatening  crowd, 

He  sent  his  strongest  thunder  cloud 

To  bring  their  warring  force  in  line, 

Before  they  left  their  native  brine. 

What  strength  those  powers  of  earth  displayed, 

While  they  for  battle  were  arrayed  ! 

The  frosty  king  rose  plain  in  sight, 

With  armor  showing  thick  and  bright. 

He  stood  on  winter's  dreary  hills, 

Where  freezing  winds  all  nature  chills, 

A  mighty  giant,  strong  of  limb, 

With  countenance  pale,  cold,  and  grim. 

His  eyes  were  glazed  and  cruel  cold  ; 

The  snow  drifts  wrapped  with  ample  fold 

His  rigid  form,  while  brilliant  white 

He  loomed  amid  the  freezing  night. 

Vast  northern  lights  with  splendid  flare 

Flashed  o'er  his  head  'mid  Arctic  air, 

And  lit  the  ice  spears  in  his  hands, 

While  frost  gales  waited  his  commands. 


64  KINGS  OF  THE    WEATHER. 

The  storm-king  on  the  southern  wave 
Appeared  no  less  imposing  brave  ; 
His  cloudy  form  was  plainly  seen, 
With  monstrous  shape  and  angry  mien, 
High  mounted  on  the  blackest  squall 
E'er  formed  by  nature  to  appall. 
With  flashing  rage  his  fierce  eyes  glanced 
While  on  his  steed  he  gallant  pranced, 
To  head  the  most  o'erwhelming  host 
That  ever  moved  from  sea  to  coast. 
This  dreadful  force  of  wind  and  rain 
He  soon  led  northward  o'er  the  main, 
High  brandishing  their  lightning  spears, 
And  thundering  with  awful  cheers 
Loud  battle-cries  of  fierce  attack, 
Upon  the  frost-king's  stubborn  track, 
Where  all  engaged  in  fearful  fray 
To  test  their  elemental  sway. 

The  frost-king  bravely  held  his  ground, 

His  north  winds  roared  with  dreadful  sound  ; 

With  snow  and  hail  he  formed  his  front 

To  stand  the  battle's  awful  brunt. 

All  bravely  fought,  their  cause  to  win, 

Until  the  frosty  ranks  got  thin, 

Which  caused  at  last  their  wide  defeat  : 

Far  north  they  fled  in  wild  retreat. 

The  storm-king  with  such  fury  rained, 

His  victory  was  well  obtained  ; 

The  thawing  lands  were  fraught  with  steam, 

While  beating  rains  freed  bay  and  stream  ; 

From  frosty  hills  they  stripped  the  snow, 

And  tumbled  it  to  vales  below, 

Where  rill  and  river  running  free, 

Their  broken  fetters  swept  to  sea, 

Which  trophies  showed  the  grand  campaign 

Had  broke  the  frost-king's  tyrant  rei«n. 


THE    TROPIC  SEA.  65 

The  great  embargo  thus  was  raised, 
On  rivers,  lakes,  and  frozen  bays  ; 
The  ships  in  port  were  free  to  roam, 
And  friends  at  sea  came  safely  home. 
The  frost-king,  driven  from  his  grounds, 
Far  to  the  North,  his  proper  bounds, 
Could  scarcely  gain  his  former  sway, 
For  spring  was  somewhere  on  the  way, 
To  take  control,  backed  by  the  sun, 
Of  lands  the  storm-king's  valor  won. 
March,  1870. 


i;THE  TROPIC  SEA. 

IT'S  joy  to  be 

Far  out  at  sea, 

Where  trade-winds  set  the  waters  dancing, 
And  waves  of  light  are  gayly  glancing. 

How  lively  gleams 

Of  bright  sunbeams 
Play  o'er  the  water's  dazzling  motion  ; 
Each  sunlit  wave,  a  gem  in  ocean. 

Deep  azure  skies 

Delight  the  eyes 
Of  mariners,  so  gayly  boating  ; 
While  pearly  clouds  are  brightly  floating. 

The  fish  are  gay, 

And  full  of  play  ; 

The  dolphin  changing  hues  displaying, 
And  porpoises  so  gladly  straying. 


66  THE    TROPIC  SEA. 

In  silver  white, 

With  pinions  bright, 
Like  arrows  shot  from  every  quarter, 
The  flying-fish  glance  o'er  the  water. 

Medusa  frail, 

With  gaudy  sail, 

In  azure,  pearl,  and  ruby  glowing, 
Along  the  wave  its  brilliance  showing. 

On  constant  wing, 

A  tireless  thing, 

The  petrel  o'er  the  waves  is  wending, 
Its  plumage  with  the  white  spray  blending. 

Our  ship,  a  queen, 

Amid  the  scene 

With  grace  and  easy  gliding  motion, 
Moves  beautiful  upon  the  ocean. 

In  snowy  spray 

Her  bows  doth  play, 
About  her  helm  the  eddies  purling, 
And  in  her  track  the  white  foam  whirling. 

With  nature's  force, 

She  keeps  her  course  ; 
The  breeze  aloft  her  sails  are  swelling, 
With  all  she  proves  a  pleasant  dwelling. 

From  swaying  mast, 

O'er  ocean  vast, 

The  whalesman's  eye  is  keenly  gazing, 
Until  he  sees  his  huge  game  raising. 


THE    VOYAGE   OF  COLUMBUS.  67 

The  ponderous  whale, 

With  slashing  tail, 

Above  the  waves  the  foam  is  heaping, 
While  o'er  the  sea  his  spout  is  sweeping. 

Then  sailors  brave, 

Quick  boat  the  wave, 
The  ocean  giant  fast  pursuing  ; 
Excitement  eager  strength  renewing. 

We  gain  his  wake, 

And  quick  o'ertake, 

Our  strong  harpoons  so  skillful  throwing, 
While  monstrous  strength  his  rage  is  showing. 

With  lances  true, 

We  quickly  strew 

His  life  blood  on  the  ocean's  azure  ; 
Each  brave  heart  glad  with  conquered  treasure. 

What  other  field 
Such  game  can  yield  ? 
What  chase  on  land  is  more  exciting, 
Or  where  is  nature  more  inviting  ? 
At  Sea,  1858. 


THE  VOYAGE   OF   COLUMBUS.6 

IN  looking  o'er  man'*  journal  of  the  past, 
We  turn  where  navigation  makes  its  mark  ; 
The  size  and  shape  of  earth  were  not  then  known 
To  man's  intelligence  ;  no  searching  mind 
Had  dared  to  pierce  the  vail  so  mystic  drawn 


68  THE    VOYAGE   OF  COLUMBUS. 

With  clouds  of  ignorance,  to  bound  its  fears. 

Man,  ever  loath  to  leave  the  beaten  track, 

Would  not  go  into  certain  trouble  far 

To  find  a  wilderness  to  lose  himself; 

Where  all  the  evils  superstition  saw, 

And  real  dangers  strove  against  his  life. 

The  Old  World  seemed  enough  for  all  his  wants  ; 

It  had  both  land  and  sea  ;  an  inland  sea 

Hemmed  in  by  fertile  shores  ;  and  those  bright  shores 

Sloped  to  the  waves  where  rivers  constant  run. 

The  current  of  his  mind,  too,  sought  the  sea, 

For  trade,  and  war,  and  fortune,  and  renown. 

But  when  his  enterprise  led  far  abroad, 

Then  loomed  the  barriers  by  nature  laid. 

The  East  was  stale  to  the  adventurous  mind  ; 

Its  time-worn  kingdoms,  with  their  crowded  life, 

The  goal  of  journeyings  through  dreary  lands, 

Gave  small  inducement  to  new  enterprise ; 

While  on  the  south  a  torrid  desert  spread, 

A  death  to  hope  of  empire,  ease,  or  gain  : 

The  North  was  drear,  and  poor,  and  cruel  cold : 

The  wild  Atlantic  from  the  westward  rolled, 

Its  fearful  waves,  forever  driving  off 

All  who  should  venture  to  explore  its  waste. 

Thus  commerce  centered  on  the  inland  sea, 

So  wonderful  in  legends  told  of  yore, 

Confined  by  shores  where  mountains  throned  the  gods 

That  ruled  the  elements  for  good  or  harm. 

The  learning  of  the  world  was  there  content 

To  build  its  temples,  pyramids,  and  towns, 

And  sail  in  its  small  way  the  inland  seas, 

For  pleasure,  war,  or  traffic  all  its  own. 

Thus  mind  was  bound.     All  efforts  to  explore 

Confirmed  the  truth  of  no  inviting  land, 

Or  other  wave  where  man  could  safely  sail ; 

So  all  beyond  remained  a  mystery, 


THE    VOYAGE   OF  COLUMBUS.  69 

With  haunting  fears,  and  dread  of  being  lost. 
But  while  thus  cruising  near  the  old  confines 
Man's  strong  imagination  burst  its  bounds 
In  sighting  distant  islands  called  the  blest, 
The  fancied  Eden  of  creation's  morn, 
Which  like  a  heaven  loomed  up  in  his  soul, 
And  proved  his  longing  for  a  larger  life. 
The  risky  Northman,  venturous  to  sail, 
Had  pierced  one  corner  of  earth's  mystic  wall, 
And  found  a  vine-clad  land  far  in  the  west. 
His  rugged  path,  icebound  and  dreadful  cold, 
Gave  small  inducement  to  the  southern  world. 
The  Northman's  nature,  like  his  Greenland  whale 
And  bear  and  walrus,  warmer  regions  shunned  ; 
His  hardy  nature  chose  the  Iceland  shores ; 
There  with  the  reindeer  he  preferred  to  dwell, 
And  let  his  grand  discoveries  be  lost. 

So  years  rolled  on  without  a  change  of  bounds ; 

But  in  the  humdrum  of  this  ancient  life, 

A  mind  was  born  endowed  with  force  to  range 

And  sum  the  navigation  of  the  world. 

From  olden  ports,  he  sailed  the  inland  seas  ; 

To  follow,  it  would  seem,  the  beaten  path 

Of  former  sailors  :  thus  to  be  content, 

As  thousands  were  before  him  all  their  lives, 

Content  to  be  a  copy,  and  no  more  ; 

Like  many  now  who  drag  the  wake  of  time, 

For  everything  they  furnish  for  their  minds, 

A  drug  to  all  good  progress  of  mankind, 

While  science  draws  them  to  a  wiser  world. 

But  while  this  sailor  cruised  old  land-bound  seas, 

His  strong  ambition  longed  for  wider  space  ; 

His  eager  mind  was  stored  with  legends  old, 

Of  ancient  Eden  somewhere  on  the  earth. 

This  fancy  led  his  soul  to  enterprise, 


70  THE    VOYAGE   OF  COLUMBUS. 

And  put  him  on  the  grand  highway  of  search 

For  something  more  than  yet  the  world  had  found. 

For  this  he  sought  the  ocean's  wider  scope  ; 

The  great  Atlantic,  with  its  larger  waves, 

His  genius  called  to  solve  its  space  unknown. 

On  its  rough  shores  he  found  a  fitting  home, 

To  learn  what  range  its  navigators  knew 

Of  rumored  isles  beyond  the  western  seas. 

The  more  he  learned,  more  strong  conviction  grew, 

That  other  lands  lay  in  the  distant  west. 

This  he  would  prove  ;  but  strong  Atlantic  waves 

And  western  gales  his  ardent  hopes  assailed. 

He  knew  it  would  be  vain  to  try  to  beat 

Far  into  that  rough  sea  with  man's  weak  hopes 

And  fearful  ignorance.    The  world  was  blind : 

No  other  mind  could  see  where  he  could  see, 

So  none  could  battle  with  such  waves  on  trust. 

Thus  pondered  he  upon  the  lands  beyond, 

So  seeming  hopelessly  beyond  his  reach. 

But  when  to  southern  seas  his  course  was  laid, 

By  far  Madeira  and  Canary  Isles, 

He  found  soft  eastern  winds  so  constant  blow 

They  cheered  his  heart ;  for  with  them  he  could  sail 

On  to  the  west,  where  all  his  hopes  were  turned  ; 

And  then  the  western  gales,  prevailing  north, 

Would  waft  him  back  safe  to  his  eastern  home, 

With  wealth,  and  tidings  of  new  western  shores, 

That  he  so  longed  to  show  to  all  mankind. 

The  mountain  Azores  with  their  clouded  peaks, 

So  far  out  on  the  ocean's  mystic  wave, 

With  high  Madeira,  and  Canaries  grand, 

To  him  were  lofty  props,  which  raised  the  screen 

That  bound  the  fears  and  ignorance  of  earth, 

Extending  hope  to  regions  further  west. 

He  made  his  home  out  on  those  distant  isles, 

To  learn  yet  more  of  wild  Atlantic  waves. 


THE    VOYAGE   OF  COLUMBUS.  71 

He  studied  well  all  things  adrift  at  sea, 

Which  had  escaped  the  sea  worm's  gnawing  tooth, 

Which  worked  so  constant,  all  unknown  to  man, 

Devouring  all  the  driftwood  ever  launched 

By  forest  streams,  through  all  the  ancient  years  ; 

Which  vain  would  strew  the  Old  World's  western  shores, 

And  hint  to  thought  of  places  where  they  grew. 

His  sharp  mind  saw  what  nature  would  conceal ; 

No  eyes  before,  or  since,  have  sought  so  keen. 

Worm-eaten  fragments  were  to  him  a  prize  ; 

Or  anything  that  drifted  on  the  waves. 

He  also  studied  stars,  and  tides,  and  gales ; 

And  while  the  distance  sank  tall  ships  and  lands, 

He  saw  the  constant  curve  of  ocean's  field  ; 

And  when  the  earth's  round  shadow  gloomy  hid 

The  full  orbed  moon,  he  saw  a  truth  revealed. 

His  mighty  genius  weighed  the  land  and  sea 

With  reason's  potent  scale,  and  weighed  them  true. 

He  cruised  far  to  the  Northman's  rugged  isles, 

With  an  inquiring  mind  and  daring  heart, 

And  learned  the  story  of  their  western  land  ; 

His  reason  saw  it  was  no  idle  tale, 

But  a  bright  window  opening  to  the  west ; 

So  his  keen  eyes  could  pierce  the  mystic  veil, 

And  see  a  land  no  other  mind  could  see. 

Thus  he  had  certain  proof  his  hopes  were  true. 

And  then  mid  trades  and  zephyrs,  oft  he  planned 

The  track  that  he  should  go  and  then  return. 

For  this  he  drew  his  charts,  and  shaped  his  mind  ; 

For  this  through  anxious  years  he  constant  strove. 

The  mandate  of  our  Teacher  unto  man, 

Go  over  all  the  world  God's  truth  to  tell, 

Was  to  Columbus  Heaven's  greatest  law ; 

This  gave  him  heart  to  ponder  ocean's  space, 

And  wander  o'er  the  lands  for  weary  years, 

Soliciting  the  help  of  prince  and  lord. 


72  THE    VOYAGE   OF  COLUMBUS. 

Yet  they  lacked  faith  to  move  without  the  gain, 
While  Christ's  great  precept  shaped  out  his  career. 
At  length  his  story  came  to  worthy  ears  — 
A  queen  who  ruled  to  spread  the  Christian  cause. 
For  this  her  heart  was  brave  to  do  her  part ; 
Thus  in  the  world's  most  potent  enterprise, 
Brave  woman's  love  of  duty  took  the  risk 
Man's  cold  and  cautious  judgment  would  not  take. 
From  her  Columbus  gained  his  long-sought  fleet : 
Three  little  vessels  to  sail  o'er  the  sea, 
An  unknown  sea,  a  fearful  ocean  waste, 
Which  all  the  world  had  shrank  from  in  the  past. 
His  fleet  was  manned  by  half-distrustful  crews, 
For  they  knew  little  of  his  studied  plans. 
They  left  the  port  of  Palos  faint  at  heart, 
With  fervent  blessings  for  their  souls  and  voyage. 
The  western  winds  blew  heavy  on  their  sails, 
And  western  waves  their  vessels  roughly  beat, 
To  drive  them  back,  as  it  had  ever  done 
All  who  had  sought  far  westward  to  explore. 
But  they  had  genius  now  to  meet  their  strength, 
Which  knew  the  breadth  of  their  dire  beating  seas. 
With  this  the  fleet  sailed  bravely  on  its  course, 
Toward  the  south  where  counter  winds  prevailed, 
Until  they  saw  the  fair  Canary  Isles, 
So  grandly  rising  'gainst  the  southern  sky, 
Out  on  the  ocean,  where  the  east  winds  blow  : 
Their  main  peak  in  the  centre,  Teneriffe, 
Towered  high  above  the  misty  floating  clouds, 
A  fearful  mountain,  belching  fire  and  smoke  ; 
Which  scared  at  first,  and  then  it  gave  them  cheer 
To  know  in  fact  the  land  was  not  all  sunk 
Below  the  world  of  waves  ;  inspiring  hope 
While  they  safe  anchored  to  refit  their  ships, 
And  gain  a  resting  on  their  daring  voyage. 
And  then,  God  help  them  !  they  again  set  sail, 


THE    VOYAGE   OF  COLUMBUS.  73 

To  plunge  their  vessels  into  unknown  seas. 

The  east  winds,  first  reluctant,  at  length  pushed 

Them  bravely  on  ;  but  when  the  tall  lands  sank, 

The  distant  outposts  of  the  then  known  world, 

Their  spirits  also  sank,  and  fears  appalled  ; 

The  last  safe  link  was  broken  in  their  minds ; 

The  dear  old  world  their  fathers  ranged  so  long, 

With  such  a  mystic  boundary  of  dread, 

Was  left  behind  for  fearful  seas  of  doubt. 

Day  after  day  the  trade-winds  blew  them  on, 

While  ocean's  waves  ran  constantly  behind  ; 

And  when  they  overtook,  with  bowing  heads 

They  placed  their  broad,  strong  shoulders  underneath 

The  heavy  transoms  of  the  tardy  fleet, 

And  pushed  them  onward,  seeming  to  rejoice 

To  have  this  novel  fleet  sail  o'er  their  seas, 

So  long  a  dreary,  threat'ning,  unknown  waste. 

Thus  they  sailed  on  a  constant  western  course  ; 

The  course  of  sun,  moon,  stars,  clouds,  winds,  and  waves. 

Hope  also  saw  the  star  of  empire  gleam, 

So  potent  since  to  shape  man's  western  way. 

Thus  all  combined  opposed  their  doubts  and  fears. 

Their  homesick  hearts,  with  constant  growing  fear, 

With  all  things  moved  still  onward  to  the  west ; 

While  watched  Columbus  from  the  high  pooped  deck, 

With  astrolabe,  or  sounding  line  in  hand ; 

Observing  everything  in  sea  and  sky, 

Oft  noting  down  the  changes  they  revealed. 

The  little  petrel  followed  in  their  wake, 

Devoid  of  fear,  encouraging  their  minds, 

And  while  they  sailed  so  leisurely  along, 

The  flying-fish  flew  thick  before  their  path 

Like  grasshoppers  before  a  grazing  herd, 

While  quick  bonito  seized  the  flying  prey  ; 

At  times  huge  whales  with  surging  length  rushed  out, 

And  with  strange  spoutings  roared  to  startled  ears ; 


.74  THE    VOYAGE   OF  COLUMBUS. 

Swift  porpoises  oft  played  around  their  bows  ; 

And  then  the  gulf  weeds,  with  fresh  golden  wreaths, 

The  strange  sea  strewed,  and  gave  faint  hearts  new  hope. 

But  they  at  length  seemed  false,  yet  played  their  part, 

Alluring  eager  souls  still  further  on,6 

Which  gave  their  chief  a  thousand  miles  clear  gain. 

Then  they  began  to  fear,  all  in  their  doubt, 

Yet  felt  a  sea  of  weeds  must  have  a  shore. 

So  they  sailed  on,  a  crew  of  frightened  souls, 

Not  knowing  what  to  do,  between  their  fears, 

A  growing  dread  of  being  lost  at  sea, 

Or  fearing  to  rebel  against  their  chief. 

But  when  their  compass  varied  from  the  stars, 

Another  terror  adding  to  their  voyage, 

They  chose  the  last ;  for  nothing  could  be  worse 

Than  sailing  onward  to  a  certain  death. 

They  were  not  much  to  blame  ;  all  signs  had  failed. 

The  anxious  lookouts,  with  their  hopeful  eyes, 

Day  after  day  had  seen  vast  islands  rise, 

And  hide  the  setting  sun  ;  high  mountain  lands 

With  misty  steeps,  and  well-drawn  shores  and  capes, 

To  fade  away  in  darkness  ere  the  morn. 

Each  hope  had  fled  ;  so  life  seemed  now  their  all. 

E'en  full  success  would  not  belong  to  them, 

But  to  their  chief,  for  they  seemed  only  tools 

In  hands  of  willful  pride  to  build  a  name. 

Vet  busy  winds  and  waves  still  pushed  them  on, 

While  their  great  captain's  heart  was  put  to  test. 

Should  he  yield  up  the  hopes  of  twenty  years, 

His  sum  of  manhood,  and  his  patron's  faith  ; 

His  years  of  anxiqus  striving  for  that  voyage  ? 

For  he  then  felt  himself,  in  that  grand  strife 

Of  yearning  hope,  young  nature's  groping  hand 

Then  reaching  forth,  to  feel  and  prove  its  form. 

Should  he,  who  felt  he  led  the  mind  of  earth, 

Surrender  all  to  grumbling  coward  fools  ? 


THE    VOYAGE   OF  COLUMBUS.  75 

No,  never !  while  the  winds  and  waves  were  fair ! 
So  his  strong  soul  opposed  the  rebel  crew 
With  dauntless  will,  till  mutiny  was  stayed. 
The  fear  of  death  was  not  so  great  a  force, 
As  was  Columbus  in  that  trying  hour. 
Yet  while  he  held  his  constant  western  course, 
He  told  his  well-laid  plans  ;  how  to  the  north 
The  western  winds  would  quickly  blow  them  home, 
When  full  success  should  seek  their  certain  aid. 
And  then  the  gulls,  true  harbingers  of  land, 
Gave  them  a  new  departure  from  their  fears ; 
Then  came  the  landbirds  from  the  hidden  shore, 
To  give  them  hope  ;  a  reed  and  bush  were  passed, 
Sure  indications  of  the  sought-for  land. 
So  they  sailed  on,  still  onward  to  the  west, 
And  when  their  shining  sunset  path  grew  dim, 
They  furled  their  sails,  and  sang  their  evening  hymn 
With  more  than  usual  fervency  and  faith. 
Then  at  the  middle  watch,  their  captain  saw 
Strange  gleams  of  light  flare  in  the  midnight  dark  ; 
Then  came  perfumes  of  flowers,  borne  on  the  breeze, 
With  certain  warning  of  the  longed  for  land. 
And  when  the  morning  came,  a  pleasant  isle, 
Adorned  with  groves  and  flowers  and  limpid  streams, 
Plain  to  their  vision  lay.     Then  there  was  joy  ! 
The  man  whom  they  reviled,  while  in  their  doubt, 
Then  seemed  to  them  as  heavenly  inspired. 
What  must  have  been  his  feelings  at  that  time, 
Well  knowing  he  had  done  a  famous  thing  ! 
Enough  to  recompense  his  anxious  years 
Of  hope,  so  long  delayed  by  doubting  men  ! 
Then  eager  to  explore  this  new-found  isle, 
They  manned  their  boats  to  gain  its  gentle  beach, 
Where  all  the  waves  sang  peaceful  songs  of  praise, 
And  seemed  to  beckon  them  toward  the  land, 
Where  soon  amid  the  gorgeous  scenery, 


76  THE    VOYAGE   OF  COLUMBUS. 

So  sweet  with  fragrance  from  a  myriad  flowers, 

They  landed,  chanting  hymns  of  thanks  to  God  ; 

While  dusky  natives  of  that  pleasant  clime, 

In  wild  simplicity  of  nature  pure, 

With  awe  and  wonder  saw  the  strangers  come, 

Regarding  them  as  beings  from  the  sun, 

The  grand  and  glorious  heaven  of  their  souls, 

Which  saw  all  good  derived  from  its  bright  source  : 

Vet  little  comprehending,  when  they  saw 

Possession  taken  in  a  formal  way, 

The  fatal  blow  to  nature's  simple  life. 

The  voyagers,  so  full  of  new-found  joys, 

Sailed  in  their  eagerness  from  isle  to  isle, 

Increasing  admiration  every  day 

Until  the  time  had  come  for  them  to  leave, 

With  specimens  and  gold  to  prove  success. 

They  sailed  for  home,  with  glad  yet  anxious  hearts. 

Detained  at  first  by  doldrums  on  their  route, 

Columbus  shaped  his  long  planned  northern  course, 

And  gained  the  western  winds  and  rugged  seas, 

As  he  first  saw  them  dashing  years  ago,  — 

So  long  the  old  world's  fearful  barrier. 

But  genius  in  good  time  puts  them  to  use  ; 

Their  fearful,  rugged  strength  fast  hove  him  on 

Toward  his  eastern  home,  with  awful  force. 

They  seemed  possessed  with  vengeful  rtfge  to  strike 

The  home-bound  fleet,  which  had  outwit  their  strength, 

And  found  the  secret  lands  they'd  hid  so  long. 

Both  ships  and  crews,  then  weak  and  weather-worn, 

Could  barely  stand  the  pressure  of  the  gale, 

Which  culminated  in  a  dreadful  storm, 

The  most  momentous  that  e'er  swept  the  sea ; 

Dire  threatening  the  clue  to  their  new  world. 

So  they  all  looked  defiantly  at  death, 

And  would  not  yield  to  its  destroying  waves. 

Their  souls  were  strong ;  their  grand  discovery 


THE    VOYAGE   OF  COLUMBUS.  77 

Nerved  them  to  utmost  human  strength  and  skill. 

Still  in  distress  they  called  upon  their  saints, 

And  made  their  solemn  vows  of  pilgrimage 

To  holy  shrines,  should  they  be  spared  to  land. 

Columbus,  ever  brave  and  practical, 

Threw  out  his  messages  upon  the  deep, 

In  hopes  the  waves  that  threatened  him  with  death 

Might  toss  them  onward  to  the  eastern  world. 

But  fate  declared  that  enterprise  should  win  ; 

The  sea  smoothed  down,  and  then  the  lookout  saw 

The  towering  Azores  rise  above  the  waves 

Their  crater-hollowed  steeps,  huge  nature's  bowls ; 

No  more  the  outposts  of  a  pent-up  world. 

While  all  were  glad  to  hail  the  Old  World's  land, 

And  live  again  with  old  familiar  scenes. 

Thus  was  the  Old  World  blended  with  the  New ; 

While 'the  uniting  ever  stronger  grows, 

Till  blood  and  thought  shall  mingle  into  one. 

So  great  Columbus  came  to  gather  all 

The  light  of  generations  in  his  mind, 

To  work  in  unison  with  nature's  laws, 

And  lead  the  timid  enterprise  of  man 

To  pierce  the  fearful  bounds  by  nature  laid, 

And  raise  the  veil  which  ignorance  had  drawn, 

And  show  the  world  what  searching  genius  saw. 

Yea,  showing  more  than  his  great  mind  could  sight  ; 

For  through  his  means  a  continent  was  gained, 

And  Christian  teaching  sent  to  every  race, 

Extending  wide  enlightened  thought  and  skill, 

So  knowledge  in  good  time  may  rule  supreme  ! 


78  WHERE    THE   TRADE-WINDS  BLOW. 

OUT  WHERE   THE   TRADE-WINDS   BRISKLY 
BLOW. 

OUT  where  the  trade-winds  briskly  blow 

Beneath  a  tropic  sky, 
Proud  from  the  ocean's  boundless  tide, 

Huge  mountains  rear  on  high. 
There,  years  ago,  young  sailors  free 

For  brave  adventure  sought, 
And  mid  vast  nature's  giant  scenes, 

Her  ocean  monsters  caught. 

It  was  indeed  a  fitting  place 

For  daring  hearts  to  be, 
Around  such  towering  isles  to  sail, 

Upon  a  lively  sea  ; 
And  there  subdue  the  mighty  whale, 

Beneath  high,  rugged  steeps, 
Whose  chasms  roar  with  breakers  strong, 

And  white  foam  constant  leaps. 

Those  isles  of  towering  mountain  rock, 

Though  barren  they  appear, 
Have  fertile  lands  above  the  clouds, 

In  rare,  clear  atmosphere. 
So  we  were  tempted  once  to  land, 

And  with  a  native  guide, 
Set  out  to  scale,  through  clouds  and  mist, 

The  giddy  mountain's  side. 

Vast  steeps  of  grand  and  sombre  hue 

Reared  high  before  our  gaze, 
But  when  from  them  we  looked  below, 

Our  senses  seemed  to  maze  : 


WHERE    THE    TRADE-WINDS  BLOW.  79 

We  felt  the  feebleness  of  man, 

Compared  with  Nature's  might, 
While  for  security  we  grasped 

The  dizzy  mountain's  height. 

But  grandeur  and  sublimity 

Soon  banished  all  we  feared  ; 
Great  ocean  waves  beneath  our  feet 

Like  tiny  ripples  peered  ; 
The  sea-fowl's  highest  flight  seemed  low, 

When  measured  on  the  side 
Of  those  gigantic  mountain  piles, 

The  work  of  nature's  pride. 

From  that  high  world  contrasting  scenes 

Our  searching  vision  met  ; 
Above  the  clouds  sweet  blooming  vales 

In  rock  bound  cliffs  were  set ; 
A  lit'tle  world  all  by  itself, 

By  lofty  nature  bound, 
And  peopled  by  as  kind  a  race 

As  ever  trod  the  ground. 

To  grace  such  pleasing  scenery, 

Gay  maidens,  brown  and  fair, 
A  glad  reception  to  us  gave, 

For  strangers  there  were  rare. 
They  had  an  emulation,  too, 

To  share  with  us  their  best  ; 
So  all  employed  their  native  charms 

To  win  a  foreign  guest. 

With  such  rare  hospitalities 

Our  gratitude  was  moved, 
The  comforts  of  a  tropic  home 

Most  generous  were  proved. 


8o  WHERE    THE    TRADE-WINDS  BLOW. 

To  crown  such  recreation, 

Enchanting  scenes  we  viewed  ; 

While  nature's  impress  struck  with  awe, 
With  beauty  she  imbued. 

There  in  love's  bower  we  found  ourselves 

Most  happy  entertained, 
Where  birds  and  flowers  and  insect  life 

Rare  beauties  had  obtained. 
There  we  recalled  each  varied  scene, 

For  nature  had  then  shown 
More  grandeur  to  us  in  one  day, 

Than  some  long  lives  have  known. 

The  sun  shone  from  the  western  sky 

Upon  a  plain  of  mist, 
So  every  peak  above  that  plain, 

By  golden  rays  was  kissed. 
Deep  down  below  this  floor  of  clouds 

The  ocean  billows  rolled, 
In  clouded  light,  till  sunset  dimmed, 

Rich  moonlight  to  unfold. 

The  moon  shone  clear  o'er  lofty  heights 

While  on  her  heavenly  way  ; 
Like  love's  bright  eyes  the  stars  shone  out, 

And  mingled  with  her  ray. 
The  polar  star  and  southern  cross 

O'er  silver  summits  showed, 
While  glances  bright  from  maiden  eyes 

With  love's  sweet  passion  glowed. 

There  beauty  danced  beneath  the  moon. 

And  pleasure  went  its  round, 
While  high  above  the  lower  world, 

Our  wild  exploit  was  crowned. 


JACK  BROWN.  8 1 

It  will  be  long  ere  hearts  forget 

The  charms  of  that  gay  night, 
For  earth  and  heaven  and  love  conspired 

To  give  our  souls  delight. 

But  duty  called  upon  us  soon 

To  bid  those  scenes  farewell ; 
'Twas  then  we  promised  to  return, 

And  longer  with  them  dwell. 
How  oft,  in  weary  hours  at  sea, 

Their  reminiscence  crowds 
Rife  fancy  with  the  pleasant  time 

We  passed  above  the  clouds  ! 

At  Sea. 


JACK   BROWN. 

JACK  BROWN  had  been  a  foreign  cruise, 
Which  ended  in  a  sailor's  truce 
From  a  long  oceanic  fight, 
Which  oft  had  tried  his  mind  and  might ; 
A  manly  test  of  nature's  strength, 
Where  courage  skilled  prevails  at  length. 
Twice  he  had  passed  the  cape  of  storms, 
And  met  sea  dangers  in  all  forms  ; 
But  when  his  ship  had  gained  her  port, 
And  safely  moored  behind  the  fort, 
He  went  on  shore  to  seek  for  pleasure, 
Besides,  to  spend  his  hard-earned  treasure, 
And  thus  enjoy  a  little  spree, 
Just  for  the  sake  of  feeling  free. 
He  longed  to  ease  the  heavy  strain 
Which  so  long  on  his  mind  had  lain ; 
6 


82  JACK  BROWN. 

For  Jack  was  drilled  on  a  rough  stage 

To  discipline  and  ocean's  rage  ; 

While  now  and  then  his  working  spirit 

He  sought  to  vent,  naught  else  would  clear  it. 

The  thoughts  of  which  his  voyage  eased, 

While  merry  fancy's  drawings  pleased ; 

For  he  had  never  learned  to  study 

Things  profiting  to  soul  or  body. 

He  was  a  man  of  too  much  passion 

For  love  of  gain  to  get  possession 

Of  his  warm  heart,  to  keep  him  steady. 

A  jolly  vagrant,  rude  and  giddy. 

When  free  from  sea  and  home  restraint, 

Although  his  conscience  oft  would  paint 

From  memory  a  mother's  blessing  ; 

But  sacred  thoughts  are  quite  distressing 

To  one  that's  bound,  he  thinks  with  reason, 

To  serve  the  devil  for  a  season. 

Although  to  sin  Jack  proved  so  willing, 

Yet  he  at  heart  was  not  a  villain. 

He'd  risk  his  life  a  life  to  save  ; 

For  friend  or  flag  his  heart  was  brave. 

Men  bold  and  free  their  lives  to  stake, 

To  selfish  plans  are  slow  to  take. 

Thus  Jack,  so  gay  and  kind  and  bold, 

Was  bound  to  give  away  his  gold 

To  any  one,  no  matter  who, 

That  should  his  inclinations  woo. 

The  devil  always  has  a  knack 

To  keep  such  people  on  his  track. 

So  Jack  was  led  by  passions  rude 

To  drinking-houses  vile  and  lewd, 

Where  sinners  give  out  invitations 

To  mock  our  dearest  love  relations. 

Suppose  he  did  steer  clear  of  sin, 

There  did  not  seem  so  much  to  win  ; 


JACK  BROWN.  83 

Because,  you  see,  he  was  a  stranger, 

And  good  folks  would  not  risk  the  danger 

Of  helping  his  rude  honest  heart 

To  ward  off  vices  on  the  start. 

To  him  it  seemed  a  strange  beholder, 

Good  people  turned  a  chilly  shoulder. 

Too  many  think  that  most  religions 

Are  rather  fond  of  frigid  regions. 

Alas,  that  we  a  heart  should  spurn, 

When  toward  virtue  it  would  turn  ! 

The  devil  has  more  useful  workers 

In  public  ways,  besides  his  lurkers, 

So  much  more  gay,  and  not  so  cold, 

Although  at  times  a  little  bold, 

When  woman's  charms  are  brought  to  bear ; 

And  yet  they  form  the  surest  snare. 

Poor,  mistaken  human  creatures, 

Thus  to  employ  their  winning  features ! 

How  strange  it  is  we  are  permitted 

To  have  humanity  so  fitted, 

That  we  can  use  it  at  our  pleasure 

To  fill  a  good  or  evil  measure  ! 

How  sad  to  think  that  woman's  beauty 

Should  serve  to  gain  the  devil  booty  ! 

A  shining  bait  for  eager  lust, 

Before  desire  learns  to  distrust, 

She  serves  awhile  to  cheat  the  eyes, 

But  vice  soon  overcomes  disguise  ; 

Then  to  our  minds  she  looks  so  bad 

Her  contemplation  makes  us  sad. 

For  what  is  lower  than  a  bawdy, 

Profane  of  speech,  obscene  and  gaudy  1 

Yet  when  we  know  that  every  city 

Promotes  her  guilt,  she  has  our  pity. 

Like  sores,  vile  cities  taint  a  nation, 

Defiling  parts  of  fair  creation. 


84  JACK  BROWN. 

For  in  the  most  enlightened  place 

Their  humors  life  and  mind  deface. 

Besides  exhausting  nature's  soil, 

They  doom  poor  lives  to  hopeless  toil. 

They  prove  to  be  the  hell-gate  centres 

Our  drifting  population  enters  ; 

Their  whirlpools  proving  oft  the  graves 

Of  aping  fools  and  risky  knaves. 

Poor  woman,  oft  left  to  herself 

Where  passion  rules  with  pride  and  pelf, 

Has  not  the  strength,  if  will,  to  row 

Against  such  strong,  subverting  flow. 

For  fashion's  whirlpools  downward  glide 

So  strong  she  scarce  can  stem  the  tide. 

Should  virtue  overtasked  e'er  leave  her, 

She's  soon  the  prey  of  some  deceiver, 

Who  steers  her  on  to  ruin's  centre 

To  invite  fools  like  Jack  to  enter. 

A  mind  not  well  inoculated 

For  all  the  evils  man  is  fated, 

And  seeks  the  town,  for  toil  or  play, 

May  take  its  ills,  the  natural  way. 

Now  Jack  was  on  just  such  a  road  ; 

Although  his  past  experience  showed 

That  there  were  always  plots  contriving, 

Still  he  was  fearless  and  conniving. 

How  many  now  claim  virtue's  place, 

Whom  fear  alone  keeps  from  disgrace  ! 

Jack's  mind,  long  used  to  rough  the  main, 

Regarded  danger  with  disdain  : 

And  when  with  drink  his  sense  was  dulled, 

An  easy  subject  to  be  gulled. 

For  then  his  carnal  nature  hungers 

To  test  the  wares  of  evil  mongers  ; 

In  which  a  man  is  always  cheated, 

No  matter  how  such  things  are  treated  ; 


JACK  BROWN.  85 

Because  they  lack  in  every  feature 

To  satisfy  his  higher  nature. 

Still  Jack  enjoyed  his  spree  at  first, 

Ignoring  that  the  end  was  curst. 

He  sought  the  lowest  dancing  houses, 

Where  chronic  wickedness  carouses, 

And  sang  love-songs,  so  blithe  and  hearty, 

And  drank  success  to  every  party. 

He  cheered,  and  reeled,  and  bullied  rowdies, 

And  made  pretended  love  to  bawdies ; 

And  cracked  his  jokes,  both  lewd  and  funny, 

While  they  were  fishing  for  his  money. 

But  soon  his  senses  grew  disgusted 

With  pleasures  he  should  ne'er  have  trusted. 

Like  foam  that  only  briefly  cheers 

The  wave  while  strong,  then  disappears, 

His  pleasures  broke  in  brawls  and  scuffles, 

Or  else  in  graceless  drunken  shuffles. 

His  last  resort  was  a  vile  station 

Where  fiddles  squeaked  to  dissipation, 

And  each  external  sense  was  hurt 

With  poison    rum,  oaths,  smoke,  and  dirt ; 

And  drunken,  red-eyed,  bloated  faces 

Danced  with  a  set  of  loathsome  cases 

Who  had  debased  all  charms  of  woman, 

And  every  grace  she  claims  that's  human. 

In  this  vile  den  Jack  soon  broke  down, 

And  then  his  senses  sought  to  drown, 

The  dreaded  ills  of  dissipation 

In  that  dark  gulf,  intoxication. 

King  Alcohol,  a  monster  spirit, 

Full  well  the  devil's  praise  cloth  merit, 

While  tricking  out  such  sins  to  charm, 

As  lead  poor  mortals  into  harm. 

They  serve  to  cheat  while  senses  dull, 

But  will  imagination  lull 


86  JACK  RROWN. 

That  higher  part  of  human  nature 

Which  raises  man  above  the  creature, 

Involving  him  in  joy  or  ill 

As  good  or  bad  directs  his  will  ? 

With  Jack  it  failed,  much  to  his  cost. 

He  soon  in  agony  was  tost, 

Tormented  by  the  horrid  dreamings 

Of  that  dire  hell,  delirium  tremens. 

Yes  !  Jack  was  wrong  to  take  to  drinking 

To  soothe  his  mind  ;  he  was  not  thinking 

That  he  had  shaped  a  course  for  trouble, 

Which  would  meet  ills  like  capes  to  double. 

He  soon  fell  in  with  dreadful  terrors, 

Enough  to  punish  all  his  errors. 

A  fearful  tide  his  mind  was  sweeping 

Where  dangers  seemed  terrific  heaping, 

Through  stormy  reefs  and  dire  disaster, 

Which  courage  strove  in  vain  to  master. 

The  tremens  cast  him  on  a  shore, 

New  scenes  of  horror  to  explore. 

For  when  he  struck  its  fearful  ground, 

He  thought  and  felt  he  should  be  drowned  ; 

For  where  the  waves  would  shoreward  throw, 

He  found  a  fearful  undertow, 

Which  almost  overpowered  his  strength. 

But  will  and  skill  prevailed  at  length ; 

So  he  made  out  to  gain  the  land, 

As  sad  a  shore  as  e'er  was  planned  ; 

A  land  full  rife  of  fearful  sights, 

Where  every  earthly  pleasure  blights. 

Sharp  lightnings  through  the  sky  were  darting, 

And  thunder-claps  were  constant  starting 

Dark  volcanic  tumbling  steeps, 

Where  crushing  boulders  fell  in  heaps, 

While  earthquakes  rent  the  solid  ground, 

And  howling  caves  pierced  cliffs  around, 


JACK  BROWN.  87 

To  one  of  which  Jack  had  to  flee. 

To  'scape  the  breakers  of  the  sea. 

With  awe  he  trod  the  gloomy  place, 

While  blue  flames  lit  its  direful  space  ; 

A  hellish  glow  of  evil  light, 

Well  toned  to  show  a  horrid  sight ! 

Jack  found  'twas  where  Death  held  reception, 

With  torments  far  beyond  conception. 

Each  dire  disease  his  life  had  weathered, 

In  that  deep,  horrid  den  was  gathered, 

Rigged  out,  it  seemed,  in  all  the  guises 

In  which  man's  nature  sympathizes. 

The  human  form  is  so  divine 

When  its  perfection  fills  the  mind, 

It  gains  the  love  of  each  spectator, 

Exalting  even  its  Creator  : 

Yet  this  same  form  e'en  angels  covet, 

For  all  good  souls  can't  help  but  love  it. 

The  devils  use,  our  minds  to  trouble, 

In  giving  shape  to  fiends  of  evil. 

Yes,  man  —  our  highest,  dearest  standard  — 

Too  oft  to  evil  has  surrendered, 

The  most  distressing  ills  to  bear. 

And  yet  they  serve  their  part  to  scare, 

In  teaching  man,  on  his  probation, 

How  sin  is  torment's  near  relation. 

Death  fairly  grinned,  while  there  he  reckoned 

His  ailing  guests  ;  to  Jack  he  beckoned, 

For  ears  were  more  than  eyes  confounded, 

With  horrid  groans  which  there  resounded. 

Jack  caught  the  signs,  his  sense  was  quickened, 

While  his  brave  heart  was  fairly  sickened. 

Though  he'd  seen  pain  in  every  shape, 

He  ne'er  had  been  in  such  a  scrape, 

As  when  Death  gave  him  introduction 

To  his  chief  workers  of  destruction. 


88  JACK  BROWN. 

Consumption  gaunt  high  office  filled 

Because  he'd  more  than  others  killed  ; 

Yet  his  long  neck,  and  narrow  chest, 

With  kindly  countenance  were  blessed  ; 

His  hopeful  smile  to  Jack  seemed  gracious, 

For  all  his  cough  was  so  tenacious. 

For  cholera,  in  deep  despair, 

In  cold  sweats  groaned  with  anxious  stare ; 

His  face,  so  full  of  apprehension, 

Told  misery  too  deep  to  mention. 

While  yellow  fever's  saffron  visage, 

That  so  delights  in  filth  to  ravage, 

Was  retching  dreadful  with  black  vomit, 

A  nauseous  sight ;  Jack  soon  turned  from  it, 

To  notice  faces  more  surprising, 

Lock-jaws  and  fits  were  agonizing. 

Besides,  he  saw  poor  souls  depicted 

With  all  the  ills  vice  has  inflicted ; 

Poor  transgressing  wretches  groaning, 

For  foolish  lives  of  sin  atoning ; 

Sad  frights  to  scare  such  people  back, 

That  long  to  leave  straight  virtue's  track. 

Then  for  a  change  from  ills  degrading, 

Out  on  the  waves  Death  was  parading 

A  starving,  helpless,  shipwrecked  crew,  — 

Each  famished  face  Jack  felt  he  knew,  — 

In  situations  help  defying, 

Which  seemed  of  all  the  scenes  most  trying. 

Then  came  a  troop  of  raging  fevers, 

That  always  court  the  king  of  terrors ; 

In  mortal  pain  they  Jack  surrounded, 

With  loud,  heart-rending  groans  they  sounded 

A  dismal  tune  for  hellish  dancing, 

Jack's  horrors  dreadfully  enhancing  ; 

For  to  those  sounds  each  fiend  did  throw 

In  some  distressing  form  of  woe. 


THE    VOYAGE   ALOFT.  89 

Their  agonizings  Jack  o'erpowered  ; 
Yes,  his  bold  spirit  fairly  cowered  : 
For  every  fiend  with  horrid  face 
Before  his  vision  gained  a  place, 
Where  all  combined  their  torments  shouted  ! 
Imagination  at  once  was  routed  ! 
The  frightful  shock  completely  scared 
Jack  back  to  reason,  which  compared 
With  the  dire  sights  he  had  been  dreaming, 
So  full  of  pain  and  horror  teeming, 
He  swore  he  ne'er  would  try  to  numb 
His  sense  with  drink,  whatever  might  come. 
Full  many  know  those  horrid  dreamings 
Of  hell  on  earth,  delirium  tremens, 
Oft  take  away  a  strong  man's  breath, 
And  leave  him  in  the  realms  of  death, 
With  no  time  for  death-bed  repentance. 
Now  who  would  like  to  risk  the  sentence 
Of  those  who  while  in  flesh  have  driven 
Their  souls  to  torment  unforgiven  ? 
At  Sea,  1859. 


THE   VOYAGE   ALOFT. 

ONE  night  while  floating  far  at  sea 
On  waters  calm  and  bright, 

The  sky  was  clear,  the  moon  was  full, 
It  was  a  splendid  night. 

A  host  of  stars  shone  in  the  sky  ; 

My  ship  was  near  the  line  ; 
Bright  constellations,  north  and  south, 

Reflected  in  the  brine. 


9°  THE    VOYAGE  ALOFT. 

The  earth  seemed  like  a  convex  glass  ; 

A  mirror,  bright  and  round, 
In  which  the  moon  could  see  herself 

In  starry  scenery  bound. 

My  ship  was  in  its  centre  placed, 

A  novel  place  to  be  ; 
With  naught  in  sight  aloft  or  low, 

But  heaven  and  the  sea. 

The  planets  shone  serene  and  clear, 

With  such  a  steady  light, 
While  fixed  stars  far  beyond  them  flashed 

In  gold,  red,  green,  and  white. 

'Twas  there  my  mind  went  wandering, 

Until  my  fancies  dreamed  ; 
I  thought  I  made  a  voyage  aloft ; 

How  strange  to  me  it  seemed  ? 

I  thought  my  limbs  had  power  like  wings, 
To  move  with  ease  through  space  ; 

No  matter  how  the  planets  sped, 
Their  speed  I  could  outrace. 

How  strange  I  felt  to  glide  so  free, 

'Twas  such  a  novel  thing  ; 
While  swift  in  circles  up  I  sped, 

To  test  my  new-found  wing. 

All  sense  of  heat  and  cold  was  lost, 
While  moving  through  the  sky ; 

Throughout  all  space  my  breath  was  free, 
Where'er  I  chose  to  fly. 


THE    VOYAGE  ALOFT.  91 

There  was  no  change  in  things  aloft, 

To  strike  while  up  I  gazed  ; 
But  when  I  looked  down  to  the  earth, 

My  senses  were  amazed. 

The  mirrored  circle  I  had  left 

Soon  wondrous  large  did  grow  ; 
Its  horizon  extending  wide, 

It  spread  a  mighty  show. 

My  ship  looked  like  a  little  speck, 

Down  on  broad  ocean's  sheen, 
While  islands  in  the  distance  peered, 

To  finish  out  the  scene. 

Yet,  while  I  moved  still  higher  up 

To  view  the  world's  full  size, 
The  planet  I  had  voyaged  so  long 

Soon  filled  me  with  surprise. 

A  huge  round  world  beneath  me  lay, 

With  clouds,  and  sea,  and  land, 
So  softly  by  the  moonlight  shown, 

It  looked  supremely  grand. 

To  view  its  whole  broadside  more  fair, 

Still  higher  I  did  rise, 
Until  I  saw  the  light  of  morn 

Light  up  the  eastern  skies. 

At  first  a  bright  thin  streak  appeared 

Along  earth's  eastern  limb  ; 
This  crescent  light  soon  wider  grew, 

And  made  the  moonlight  dim. 


THE    VOYAGE  ALOFT. 

It  streaked  along  half  round  the  world, 

Ten  thousand  miles  of  glow  ; 
Until  the  sun,  which  earth  had  hid, 

Beyond  its  rim  did  show. 

And  as  I  watched  this  far-off  morn 

The  crescent  wider  grew, 
While  moved  the  sun  out  from  its  disk, 

And  brought  the  day  in  view. 

The  world  appeared  so  bright  and  large, 
When  by  the  daylight  shown  ! 

Vast  continents  and  seas  were  mapped 
With  clear  and  splendid  tone. 

For  I  was  where  I  could  take  in 

Their  vast,  enormous  size  : 
Earth's  mighty  zone  filled  wide  the  space, 

Mid  the  eternal  skies. 

Though  I  had  cruised  the  round  world  o'er, 

Surveying  sea  and  land, 
Yet  never  to  my  mind  before 

Did  earth  seem  half  so  grand. 

But  many  things  looked  dwarfed  to  me, 

That  once  gigantic  seemed  ; 
Wide  tempests,  so  reduced  in  bounds, 

In  tiny  flashes  gleamed. 

The  storm  clouds  looked  so  different 

From  when  seen  from  below, 
Instead  of  looming  dark  and  drear, 

Like  silver  they  did  glow. 


THE    VOYAGE  ALOFT.  93 

High  mountains,  which  when  seen  from  earth 

Appear  so  awful  tall, 
Were,  from  the  medium  I  viewed, 

Reduced  surprising  small. 

Great  rivers  to  me  narrow  seemed, 

Yet  lengthened  in  their  course  ; 
Through  hills  and  plains  and  forests  dark 

They  stretched  from  sea  to  source. 

Besides,  I  saw  where  winter  reigned, 

White  with  its  shining  snows  ; 
I  saw  the  torrid  zone  between, 

And  where  the  ocean  flows. 

The  ocean  spread  so  wondrous  wide, 

Its  waves  were  all  outgrown  ; 
While  storms  and  pleasant  weather  ranged 

Upon  its  swelling  zone. 

Thus  each  division  of  the  world 

Before  my  gaze  was  mapped  ; 
It  was  indeed  a  mighty  scene 

In  which  my  mind  was  rapt. 

It  seemed  so  strange  to  me  that  man, 

An  atom  of  the  ground, 
Could  have  a  mind  of  such  extent, 

To  clasp  the  world  around. 

I  thought  of  times  man  deemed  the  world 

Spread  out  no  one  knew  where  ; 
And  how  a  voyage  like  this  would  make 

His  eyes  with  wonder  stare. 


94  THE    VOYAGE  ALOFT. 

And  then  I  thought  how  long  it  took 

For  mind  so  large  to  grow, 
Before  it  could  take  in  a  world, 

And  use  it  for  a  show. 

For  while  I  yet  more  distance  gained, 
Earth  seemed  a  large,  smooth  ball, 

Which  a  thin  coat  of  atmosphere 
Like  varnish  covered  all. 

'Twas  then  I  realized  man's  bounds 

Beneath  this  airy  peel, 
How  near  his  life  was  bound  to  earth, 

The  distance  did  reveal. 

For  he  could  not  go  up  or  down, 
But  crept  down  on  earth's  crust ; 

How  slow  his  little  movements  seemed, 
While  creeping  on  the  dust ! 

But  distance  soon  reduced  earth's  bulk 

To  a  large-sized  balloon  ; 
It  looked  so  round  and  smooth  and  bright, 

It  seemed  a  mammoth  moon. 

Its  mountains  were  too  small  to  show, 
So  land  was  smoothly  sphered  ; 

While  ocean  coated  earth  so  thin, 
Bare  spots  quite  plain  appeared. 

The  sun  so  large  and  glorious  shone, 
Removed  from  worldly  haze, 

I  sought  to  use  my  new-found  power 
To  gain  its  heavenly  rays. 


THE    VOYAGE  ALOFT.  95 

But  distance  almost  scared  my  mind, 

E'en  with  a  tireless  wing, 
As  I  flew  on  my  skyward  course, 

Where  naught  but  worlds  could  swing. 

I  passed  the  moon,  and  with  surprise 

I  saw  her  features  change, 
For  ne'er  had  human  eyes  before 

Viewed  her  from  such  high  range. 

I  saw  bright  Venus  grow  as  large 

As  our  moon  to  our  eyes ; 
While  the  far  sun  had  magnified 

To  an  amazing  size. 

Then  to  my  sight  I  saw  appear 

A  star  of  splendid  make, 
It  moved  so  swift  full  on  my  course, 

I  felt  'twould  soon  o'ertake. 

It  bore  a  train  of  wondrous  length  ; 

Swift  on  my  path  it  flew. 
As  it  drew  near,  its  magnitude 

Fast  to  my  senses  grew. 

Its  speed  and  splendor  first  amazed, 

And  then  o'erpowered  my  thought, 
So  that  I  cannot  well  explain 

How  its  attractions  caught 

But  when  my  senses  were  regained, 

Naught  met  me  but  surprise  ; 
A  new  creation  showed  itself 

To  my  astonished  eyes. 


96  THE    VOYAGE  ALOFT. 

Mid  vast,  o'erpowering  maze  of  things, 

I  soon  was  led  to  trace 
A  magic  world  of  heavenly  light, 

Swift  travelling  in  space. 

The  star  was  one  vast,  fluid  globe 

Of  strange  celestial  light, 
Through  which  life  moved  with  perfect  ease, 

Mid  splendors  pure  and  bright. 

Its  host  of  intellects  appeared 

With  such  superior  powers, 
When  I  compare  them  with  my  own, 

My  spirit  fairly  cowers. 

Their  forms  appeared  in  human  shape, 

But  greatly  magnified, 
With  minds  of  such  superior  range, 

They  all  seemed  deified. 

They  moved  in  this  transparent  globe 

With  such  delightful  grace, 
Their  perfect  symmetry  of  form 

Was  ecstasy  to  trace. 

All  grace  and  beauty  and  delight 

Artistic  genius  shows, 
Appeared  in  all  the  higher  forms 

Our  spirit  nature  knows. 

They  grouped  themselves  with  so  much  skill, 
My  taste  with  pleasure  thrilled  ; 

While  all  the  beauty  mind  conceives 
My  searching  vision  filled. 


THE    VOYAGE  ALOFT.  97 

In  this  bright,  gliding  star  I  found 

They  voyaged  from  sun  to  sun ; 
Its  shining  train  served  as  a  guide 

To  show  the  courses  run. 

So  this  swift,  blazing  ship  of  space, 

Moved  on  its  splendid  sail ; 
Toward  the  sun  it  moved  with  speed, 

With  all  its  brilliant  trail. 

Thus  was  the  glorious  centre  gained, 

Vast  source  of  light  and  heat ; 
While  swift  the  planets  round  it  spun, 

Their  circles  to  complete. 

A  mighty  globe  of  wondrous  light, 

Large  as  a  million  worlds, 
Rolled  through  an  endless  heavenly  range, 

On  its  eternal  whirls  ; 

While  round  it  swung  the  planets  bright, 

Swift  comets  went  and  neared, 
And  while  they  sped  their  varied  course, 

How  splendidly  they  veered. 

Vast  glowing  clouds,  extending  wide, 

Like  swift  auroral  light, 
Sublimely  flashed  along  the  sky, 
Most  glorious  to  the  sight. 

While  mid  the  shining  atmosphere 

Of  this  vast  central  globe, 
Grand  intellects  angelic  moved, 

Each  in  a  splendid  robe. 

7 


98  THE    VOYAGE  ALOFT. 

Their  presence  wore  a  pleasing  tone, 
Like  beauty  clothed  in  grace  ; 

To  crown  the  glory  of  their  forms 
Love  shone  in  every  face. 

As  living  beams  shoot  from  the  suns 

Of  distant  worlds  above, 
The  virtue  of  their  souls  shone  out, 

And  lit  their  world  with  love. 

All  sense  and  reason  and  delight 
By  them  seemed  easy  wrought, 

Which  graced  a  world  of  grand  designs, 
Surpassing  human  thought. 

Sweet  fragrance  filled  their  atmosphere 
More  exquisite  than  flowers, 

While  every  place  was  richer  crowned 
Than  cloud-land's  sunset  towers. 

Grand  harmonies  from  countless  tongues, 

Sweet  ecstasy  of  sounds, 
Thrilled  all  their  splendid  world  of  light, 

Throughout  its  mighty  bounds. 

Their  minds  took  such  extended  range 
Through  knowledge  gained  in  light, 

Vast  nature's  laws  so  far  they  learned, 
Life  proved  a  grand  delight. 

For  they  roamed  o'er  extended  space, 

Exploring  distant  spheres  ; 
With  blazing  comets  for  their  cars 

They  sped  their  grand  careers. 


THE    VOYAGE  ALOFT.  99 

But  still  they  seemed  to  think  that  they 

In  middle  bounds  were  placed, 
There  was  so  much  beyond  and  near, 

Their  minds  had  never  traced. 


For  they  could  not  direct  a  world, 
Or  change  a  comet's  rounds  ; 

So  even  their  superior  powers 
Were  limited  to  bounds. 

They  made  me  think  of  man's  estate, 
Who  knows  earth's  grounds  outside, 

While  ignorance  of  all  within 
Deprives  him  of  his  pride. 

Their  God  appeared  as  great  to  them, 
As  ours,  which  has  our  praise  ; 

So  even  their  far-reaching  minds 
Were  lost  in  heavenly  maze. 

Things  far  too  vast  for  mind  to  solve, 

Ten  thousand  times  I  saw 
On  this  grand  centre  of  the  worlds 

Moved  by  great  nature's  law. 

For  I  was  like  the  smallest  gnat 

That  flits  our  earthly  sky, 
So  even  their  wide  searching  eyes 

My  presence  did  not  spy. 

I  even  felt  myself  compared 

To  microscopic  life, 
When  drops  are  magnified  to  worlds, 

With  beings  filled  with  strife. 


THE    VOYAGE  ALOFT. 

For  this  great  centre  swarmed  with  life 
Of  countless  forms  and  shades  ; 

I  felt  'twould  be  an  endless  task 
To  note  their  teeming  grades. 

And  when  I  saw  the  shining  stars 
Through  endless  distance  glow, 

I  felt,  while  looking  into  space, 
How  little  man  can  know. 

Eternity  with  countless  suns 

Loomed  up  before  my  gaze, 
Till  suns  the  whole  round  distance  filled, 

And  bound  my  soul  in  maze. 

And  when  I  thought  what  intellects 

Those  constellations  crowned, 
All  that  our  little  world  could  know 

Mid  seas  of  suns  was  drowned. 

Their  systems  seemed  huge  heavenly  wheels 
On  which  God  rode  through  space  ; 

With  vast,  eternal  thought  to  guide, 
They  rolled  before  my  face. 

I  followed  them  till  mind  was  lost ; 

Pursuing  endless  light, 
My  soul's  strong  sight  in  distance  dimmed, 

Like  signals  in  the  night. 

But  when  the  earth's  revolving  zone 

My  searching  vision  caught, 
I  felt  my  mind  still  held  a  place 

In  the  eternal  thought. 


THE  FISHING  FLEET.  IO1 

However  small  the  scope  I  took 

Within  the  heavenly  range, 
I  knew  myself  to  be  a  part 

Of  its  unending  change. 

While  in  this  mood  my  vision  broke ; 

Again  I  was  at  sea ; 
A  breeze  had  put  my  mirror  out, 

And  left  me  sailing  free. 


THE  FISHING  FLEET. 

OFF  shore  the  fishing  fleet  is  led 
By  crews  who  grieve  with  secret  dread. 
They  grieve  for  those  they  leave  in  tears, 
And  dread  the  risk  of  ocean  fears  ; 

For  well  they  know 
They've  started  on  a  winter  sail 
Where  dreadful  storms  will  sure  prevail ; 

Yet  on  they  go, 

Like  sea-fowl,  on  their  fishing  tour, 
The  wealth  of  ocean  to  secure. 

Their  wives  and  mothers,  while  they  leave, 
Watch  from  the  shore,  and  sadly  grieve  j 
They  feel  the  dangers  of  the  main, 
For  all  have  had  some  loved  one  slain 

In  that  dire  war, 

A  life's  contention  with  the  waves, 
Which  ends  too  oft  in  ocean  graves  ; 

For  nature's  law 

Will  drown  the  brave,  in  honest  strife, 
Who  sin  too  far  in  risking  life. 


102  THE  FISHING  FLEET. 

For  when  the  ocean's  winter  gales 
Out  on  their  fishing-ground  prevail, 
They'll  find  their  little  craft  too  light 
To  stand  the  fury  of  the  fight. 

This  well  is  known  ; 
For  each  old  fisherman  on  deck 
Knows  what  escapes  he's  had  from  wreck, 

Yet  will  not  own 
His  brave  and  gallant  little  craft 
Lacks  size  and  strength  such  seas  to  waft. 

Yet  well  he  knows  of  whaling  ships, 
Which  o'er  all  oceans  make  their  trips, 
For  years  through  gales  they  safely  ride, 
And  fear  no  storms  upon  the  tide. 

Their  strength  and  size 
Well  fit  them  for  the  stormy  waves ; 
All  safe  they  ride  while  ocean  raves, 

And  fear  despise. 
All  this  the  fisherman  well  knows ; 
Still  in  his  smack  to  sea  he  goes. 

To  sin  'gainst  fate  all  men  are  free, 
So  smacks  will  dare  the  winter  sea  ; 
But  with  the  spring  do  all  return, 
To  ease  the  hearts  who  anxious  yearn  ? 

No  !  some  will  miss  ; 
Yes,  part  of  that  brave  fishing  fleet 
Their  loving  homes  will  never  greet, 

Fond  lips  to  kiss. 

Their  craft  will  founder  in  the  waves, 
And  loved  ones  find  deep  ocean  graves. 

Thus  frequent  wrecks  sad  lessons  teach, 
While  anxious  hearts  watch  from  the  beach 
And  widows  with  their  orphans  mourn, 


THE   OCEAN  TIDES.  103 

For  lives  so  ruthless  from  them  torn. 

But  still  the  fleet 

Now  seaward  turns  when  all  is  done, 
And  bears  to  sea  the  widow's  son, 

His  doom  to  meet. 
And  thus  man  carries  on  a  war, 
So  reckless,  'gainst  stern  nature's  law. 


THE  OCEAN   TIDES. 

THE  summer's  day  ends  calm  and  sweet. 
My  native  vale  is  glad  to  greet 
The  ocean's  swelling  tides,  that  flood 
To  meet  the  waters  of  the  wood. 
A  dear  uniting  this  to  me, 
Who  have  a  loved  one  far  at  sea. 
There  is  no  charm  in  festive  joys, 
Since  the  deep  sea  my  love  decoys. 

With  my  love  here  'twas  sweet  to  rove 

By  rock  and  rill  and  shady  grove  ; 

Glad  were  the  songs  which  cheered  the  vale, 

Before  my  lover's  ship  set  sail. 

But  now  he's  gone,  my  heart  is  faint, 

And  nature's  song  to  me  a  plaint ; 

Dull  are  the  pleasures  of  the  town  ; 

On  wood  and  mead  gloom  seems  to  frown. 

My  lonely  mind  now  seeks  the  shore, 
More  dear  to  me  than  lawn  or  bower ; 
For  each  full  sea  that  greets  me  here 
Seems  like  a  message  from  my  dear. 
How  yearns  my  heart,  while  here  I  bide, 
My  love  may  come  on  such  a  tide, 


104  MAY. 

And  mingle  his  heart's  joys  with  mine, 
As  fresh  waves  mingle  with  the  brine. 

My  heart,  now  ebb,  would  swell  its  brim  ; 
How  bright  my  earthly  joys  would  swim  ! 
The  flow  of  love  would  trouble  drown, 
And  cause  again  my  heart  to  crown 
Each  lovely  spot  with  as  sweet  grace, 
As  now  beams  on  the  ocean's  face, 
While  here  I  stroll  at  eventide, 
And  wish  the  interval  to  glide. 


MAY. 

GREAT  nature's  life,  fresh  from  its  rest, 
Is  now  at  work  with  all  its  powers  j 

On  every  hand  the  earth  is  blest 

With  fragrant  bloom,  sunshine,  and  showers. 

The  swallow  twitters  overhead, 

And  glad  birds  sing  in  blooming  trees  ; 

The  soul,  delighted,  now  is  led 
To  feast  its  senses  in  the  breeze. 

Thus  all  we  heed  beneath  the  sky 

Is  full  of  wonder-working  life. 
Great  ocean  sends  its  spawning  fry 

To  stream  and  lake,  while  land  is  rife 
With  flowering  beauty,  giving  birth 
To  the  grand  future  life  of  earth. 

May,  1869. 


HOMEWARD  BOUND.  1 05 


HOMEWARD   BOUND. 

O'ER  the  wide  rolling  waves  we  are  sailing, 
And  the  pure  sea  breezes  inhaling, 
While  the  foam  in  our  track  is  trailing, 

As  we  go  on  gliding  home : 
Sailing  home,  rolling  home,  wafting  home, 

While  we  go  on  gliding  home. 

Our  sails  in  the  moonlight  are  beaming, 
While  the  stars  high  aloft  are  gleaming, 
And  the  sea  is  with  brightness  teeming, 

While  we  are  fast  wafting  home : 
Gliding  home,  sailing  home,  bounding  home, 

So  we  go  on  wafting  home. 

When  the  tempest  through  the  sky  is  sounding, 
And  the  storm-waves  our  lone  bark  surrounding, 
Brave  hope  in  our  hearts  is  abounding, 

For  we  are  fast  rolling  home : 
Bounding  home,rushing  home,  rolling  home, 

For  we  are  fast  rolling  home. 

While  our  hearth  fires  at  home  are  burning, 
And  our  hearts  for  our  loved  ones  yearning, 
Brave  hope  every  danger  is  spurning, 

While  we  go  on  wafting  home  : 
Sailing  home,  gliding  home,  rolling  home, 

While  we  go  on  wafting  home. 

Our  hearts  with  emotion  are  beating, 

As  we  think  of  our  friends  and  their  greeting  ; 

May  our  voyage  be  auspicious  and  fleeting, 

•  While  we  are  approaching  home  : 
Gliding  home,  sailing  home,  wafting  home, 
While  we  go  on  gliding  home. 


106  THE   WHALEMAN'S  RETURN. 


THE   WHALEMAN'S    RETURN. 

A  WEARY  voyage  the  whaleman  spent 

In  roving  o'er  the  main, 
Contending  with  its  stormy  waves, 

A  recompense  to  gain  ; 
Weeks,  months,  and  years  had  been  consumed, 

Besides  his  vessel's  stores  ; 
So,  with  the  spoils  of  a  sea  hunt, 

Again  he  sought  his  shores.  > 

For  within  each  true  sailor's  heart 

There  is  a  magnet  force, 
That  has  attractions  for  his  home,  .> 

Though  far  his  ocean  course. 
So  he  had  steered  his  pathless  way 

By  this  attractive  guide, 
Till  by  the  shores  of  dear  home  land 

His  seaworn  bark  did  glide. 

The  wind  blew  fair  toward  the  shore, 

And  all  the  land  was  bright ; 
The  steeples  of  his  native  town 

Rose  plain  upon  his  sight. 
Yet  rapture  failed  to  sway  his  heart, 

For  it  contained  a  fear, 
While  drawing  near  the  longed-for  land 

That  held  his  home  so  dear. 

He  thought  perhaps  his  parents  old, 

His  children,  or  his  wife, 
Or  some  near  relative,  or  friend, 

Had  made  the  voyage  of  life. 
And  he  might  have  to  feel  the  loss 

Of  those  his  heart  most  prized  ; 


THE   WHALEMAN'S  RETURN.  107 

And  his  long  cherished  welcome  home 
Turned  into  grieving  sighs. 

The  harbor  gained,  his  feet  soon  trod 

The  unaccustomed  ground, 
And  new  sensations  filled  his  mind, 

While  viewing  things  around. 
He  felt  surprised  when  each  sense  came 

To  see  the  haunts  long  dreamed  ; 
Sweet  resting-places  for  his  mind, 

Where  love  so  hopeful  seemed. 

Old  faces  greeted  him  on  shore, 

Yet  his  fond  heart  felt  strange  ; 
The  present  shocked  his  memory 

With  unexpected  change. 
But  he  was  glad,  for  he  was  told, 

His  kindred  still  survived  ; 
With  joy  his  cottage  home  was  gained,  — 

A  joy  so  long  deprived. 

With  strong  impulse  of  glad  surprise 

His  wife  sprang  to  his  arms, 
And  in  the  fullness  of  her  heart 

She  wept  for  past  alarms. 
He  felt  both  pity  and  delight, 

While  sobbings  rose  and  fell 
In  her  dear  breast,  close  to  his  heart  — 

Love's  most  endearing  spell. 

And  while  affection  gave  its  vent 

To  feelings  long  subdued, 
Their  little  ones  with  diffidence 

The  tragic  meeting  viewed. 


108  THE   WHALEMAN'S  RETURN. 

Yet  with  the  trusting  confidence 

A  mother  can  inspire, 
They  soon  with  little  tales  of  love 

Amused  their  stranger  sire. 

How  they  had  changed  !  the  infant  forms 

He  left  long  years  ago 
Were  lost  for  those  of  larger  growth  ; 

'Twas  strange  to  find  them  so. 
They  tell  him  how  grandparents  are  ; 

How  quick  their  young  hearts  knew 
His  deep  concern  for  those  they  loved, 

While  their  acquaintance  grew  ! 

Then  to  the  homestead  they  repaired 

To  meet  his  parents  dear, 
Who  greeted  him  with  thankful  joy, 

Which  gave  his  heart  good  cheer  ; 
For  well  he  knew  how  deep  and  pure 

Was  their  well-spring  of  love  ; 
While  he  refreshed  his  thirsty  soul, 

And  thanked  the  powers  above. 

His  mind  was  fraught  with  happiness, 

Again  to  test  the  joys 
Which  a  pure  home  held  in  reserve, 

Free  from  the  world's  alloys. 
Yes,  it  was  good  to  be  at  home, 

To  feel  himself  thus  blessed, 
And  ease  the  strain  of  roving  life, 

In  its  safe  port  of  rest. 


THE   OLD  PURITANIC  BURIAL   GROUND.       109 

THE  OLD  PURITANIC  BURIAL  GROUND. 

THE  noise  and  glare  of  day  have  fled  ; 

Save  lulling  sounds  the  air  is  still  ; 
For  meditation  we  are  led 

To  the  old  grave-yard  on  the  hill, 
Where  mid  the  evening's  dreamy  notes, 
The  sacred  charm  of  twilight  floats. 

It  is  a  lone,  neglected  spot ; 

Its  sinking  graves  are  spread  around 
Their  fading  epitaphs,  forgot, 

Are  slowly  crumbling  to  the  ground  ; 
Amid  wild  grass  and  briers  they  hide, 
A  lesson  for  man's  earthly  pride. 

There  is  no  monument  of  fame, 

To  call  its  worshippers  to  gaze, 
Nor  pride  or  wealth's  display,  to  shame 

A  Christian  taste  for  life's  vain  ways ; 
There  was  no  c^ll  for  art  to  show 
The  merits  of  the  dead  below. 

Here  nature  softly  soothes  our  dread, 

As  we  explore  the  grounds  alone ; 
While  thought  commingles  with  the  dead, 

Our  spirits  feel  the  sacred  tone 
We  all  should  feel  while  senses  learn 
How  much  for  death  the  years  can  earn. 

Those  leaning  stones  of  time-worn  age 
Yet  give  their  roll  of  honest  names, 

Who  worthy  filled  life's  humble  stage  ; 
We  stay  to  note  their  modest  claims  ; 

How  parent,  husband,  wife,  and  friend 

Lived  good  examples  to  their  end. 


HO        THE   OLD  PURITANIC  BURIAL    GROUND. 

A  few  tame  flowers  yet  feeble  leaf, 
To  soon  die  out  of  nature's  way, 

Still  call  to  mind  the  transient  grief 
That  nursed,  and  left  them  to  decay  ; 

Yes,  grief  from  those  old  haunts  has  gone, 

For  new-made  graves  her  tears  are  drawn. 

Here  on  an  old,  time-faded  stone, 

An  epitaph  we  yet  can  read, 
And  this  is  all  we  know  of  one 

That  preached  for  years  God's  holy  creed  ; 
We  read  how  well  a  man  sustained 
The  godly  precepts  he  explained. 

With  birth,  and  name,  and  death,  we  trace 
That  he  was  affable  and  learned, 

A  gentleman  fit  for  his  place  ; 
A  spotless  character  he  earned  ; 

Beloved,  lamented,  it  was  said, 

Yet  with  his  times  his  fame  has  fled. 

'Twas  here  the  Puritanic  church 
A  century  called  for  the  good, 

Who  spent  their  lives  in  earnest  search 
To  have  God's  precepts  understood  ; 

Far  more  than  wealth  or  fame  they  loved 

To  have  salvation  to  them  proved. 

The  old  horseblocks  that  flanked  its  sides, 
Unused  and  mossed  for  many  a  year, 

Still  call  to  mind  their  Sabbath  rides, 
When  youth  and  age  alighted  here, 

To  learn  such  texts  as  best  could  save 

Beyond  the  drear,  consuming  grave. 


THE   OLD   PURITANIC  BURIAL   GROUND.       ill 

The  dear  old  house  has  long  been  razed  ; 

The  faithful  hearts  it  used  to  call 
To  worship  God  in  earnest  praise 

Have  long  since  lain  beneath  their  pall ; 
They've  gone  their  prayed-for  joys  to  reap, 
And  left  their  bodies  here  to  sleep. 

Those  hills  and  vales  still  bring  to  mind 
Their  homely  and  industrious  lives. 

In  all  the  landscape  round  we  find 
Some  work  of  theirs,  in  which  revives 

The  age  they  lived  ;  their  honest  toil 

Is  plainly  stamped  upon  the  soil. 

The  ponded  stream  and  orchard  trees, 

The  lichened  walls  our  homesteads  bound, 

The  meadows  open  to  the  breeze, 

The  roads  which  wind  the  whole  around, 

Show  what  they've  done  ;  they  did  not  shirk, 

When  duty  called  them  to  their  work. 

The  whole  wide  land  shows  how  they  toiled, 
While  striving  for  our  common  rights  ; 

Both  kings  and  savages  they  foiled, 
Through  anxious  years  of  cruel  fights, 

And  gained  a  victory  at  last, 

Which  crowns  the  workings  of  the  past. 

However  narrow  in  our  sight, 

Or  bigoted,  they  seem  to  be, 
Their  earnestness  for  doing  right 

Was  a  deep  keel  laid  for  the  free  ; 
A  keel  on  which  our  ship  of  state 
Rides  strong  and  proud,  with  all  its  freight. 


112  PATERNAL   DEVOTION. 

The  principles  they  had  in  view 

Are  growing  far  beyond  their  thought. 

They  worked  for  justice,  firm  and  true; 
So  each  descendant  now  is  taught 

The  common  rights  of  men  on  earth, 

Without  regard  to  creed  or  birth. 

Should  e'er  the  blood  of  all  their  race 
Hold  to  their  earnestness  for  right, 

With  wider  range  of  thought  to  grace 
Fair  freedom  in  its  growing  might ; 

A  sure  success  so  plain  appears, 

What  glory  crowns  the  coming  years  ! 


PATERNAL    DEVOTION. 

WHILE  I  recall  my  early  years, 
What  love  my  recollection  cheers, 
When  in  the  picture  that  appears, 

I  plainly  see 
My  honored  parents,  which  endears 

The  past  to  me  ! 

Next  to  my  mother's  cherished  face, 
My  father's  manly  form  has  place, 
In  whose  loved  features  I  can  trace 

A  worthy  man ; 
His  conduct  well  his  sphere  doth  grace, 

All  through  life's  span. 

He  lived  an  honest,  toiling  life, 
Exposed  to  all  the  ills  and  strife 


PATERNAL   DEVOTION.  TI3 

For  which  our  working  world  is  rife, 

And  bravely  earned 
Support  for  little  ones  and  wife, 

His  chief  concern. 

How  many  brave  men  bear  to-day 
The  heavy  fears  which  on  him  lay, 
And  feel  their  loved  ones'  only  stay 

May  be  weighed  down  ; 
While  whelming  ills  strive  for  the  sway, 

Home  joys  to  drown. 

Yet  strong  of  heart,  he  would  not  yield  ; 
With  application  for  his  shield, 
He  bravely  fought  life's  battle-field, 

And  won  the  day  ; 
While  simple  joys  his  home  revealed, 

His  toil  to  pay. 

His  infant  children  on  him  turned 

Their  early  love,  and  when  they  learned 

How  hard  he  toiled,  their  young  hearts  yearned 

To  give  him  joy ; 
How  bright  for  him  love's  altar  burned, 

Gloom  to  destroy ! 

If  we  may  use  affection's  gauge, 
His  heart  grew  wealthy  with  his  age  ; 
His  toiling  life  he  gave,  a  wage 

Such  wealth  to  win  ; 
To  slight  such  with  ambitious  rage, 

He  thought  a  sin. 

The  best  minds  feel  ambition's  glow, 
Yet  oft  their  labors  here  below 
8 


114  PATERNAL  DEVOTION. 

They  feel  their  duty  to  bestow 

Where  love  depends ; 
They  will  not  check  a  warm  heart's  flow, 

For  worldly  ends. 

He  saw  how  wealth  and  place  were  sought, 
And  thought  them  oft  too  dearly  bought ; 
His  conscience  shrank  from  being  caught 

By  some  mean  thing. 
To  quench  ambition's  thirst,  he  sought 

Life's  purer  spring. 

How  many  men  now  known  to  fame, 

Had  their  position  been  the  same, 

Perhaps  would  ne'er  have  blazed  their  name 

On  the  world's  ear ; 
For  duty  oft  has  kept  men  tame, 

In  lowly  sphere. 

Although  he  gave  me  humble  birth, 
Yet  his  plain,  honest,  manly  worth, 
Which  rank  and  riches  cannot  girth, 

I  truly  prize : 
And  who  the  real  salt  of  earth 

Can  e'er  despise  ? 

Such  men  are  sound  when  comes  the  test, 
Yet  oft  by  fate  too  rudely  pressed  ; 
Still  firm  foundation  stones,  where  rest 

A  nation's  powers, 
On  which  society  is  blessed, 

And  manhood  towers. 


LIZZY.  X15 


LIZZY. 

As  I  recall  my  early  loves, 

Sweet  Lizzy  rules  supreme  ; 
Her  easy  grace  and  winning  smile 

Would  crown  a  lover's  dream. 
Her  heart  so  full  of  sentiment 

Her  lovely  face  expressed  ; 
In  all  her  ways  there  was  a  charm 

Which  none  but  she  possessed. 

Her  beauty  first  my  fancy  caught, 

Her  voice  my  ear  then  gained,' 
Her  intellect  my  reason  won, 

While  taste  and  tact  maintained 
An  elegance  to  work  out  charms 

That  pleased  my  very  soul ; 
So,  with  her  graces  all  combined, 

She  had  my  heart's  control. 

A  pleasing  thrill  ran  through  my  frame 

When  first  she  read  my  thought, 
For  her  bright  glances  saw  the  love 

Which  she  had  in  me  wrought ; 
My  heart  was  cheered  to  know  that  she 

Could  see  her  power  to  move, 
Because  I  knew  she  had  a  mind 

That  would  my  soul  improve. 

Then  what  delightful  walks  we  had, 
By  river,  grove,  and  mead  ; 

In  tracing  nature's  beauties  out, 
She  always  took  the  lead  : 

In  every  circle  where  she  moved, 
At  home,  in  church,  or  hall, 


LIZZY. 

Her  lovely  ways,  good  sense,  and  taste 
Were  seen  supreme  o'er  all. 

She  was  so  watchful  everywhere, 

No  beauties  missed  her  sight ; 
On  sky,  and  earth,  and  wave  she  saw 

Pure  gleams  of  heaven's  light ; 
Each  little  bloom  that  graced  her  path, 

She  turned  into  a  prize, 
So  that  her  love  of  nature's  charms 

Made  life  a  sweet  surprise. 

Though  touching  ills  and  griefs  of  life 

Would  often  give  her  pain, 
Yet  then  her  kind  and  feeling  heart 

Would  some  new  triumph  gain  : 
For  her  pure  deeds  of  charity 

Inspired  each  grateful  mind 
To  bless  her  life,  and  render  love, 

That  cold  hearts  never  find. 

But  her  dear,  loving,  sentient  soul 

Soon  left  this  world  of  strife, 
Her  spirit,  so  much  loved  on  earth, 

Now  fills  a  higher  life  ; 
Yet  she  lives  in  my  memory, 

An  angel  bright  and  fair. 
I  often  think  how  well  with  heaven 

Her  virtues  will  compare. 
At  Sea ',  November  20,  1861. 


THE  SUMMER  NIGHT'S  SEA.  1 17 


THE  SUMMER  NIGHT'S  SEA. 

O  COME  with  me,  love,  let  us  walk  by  the  sea, 
For  the  summer  has  softened  its  rage ; 

Land,  ocean,  and  heaven  all  seem  to  agree 
In  a  placid  repose  to  engage. 

The  night  has  subdued  the  full  dazzle  of  day ; 

There  is  naught  to  confuse  while  we  gaze ; 
The  waters  reflecting  each  heavenly  ray, 

While  the  moon  the  rich  landscape  portrays. 

Our  fair  world  is  beaming  with  prospects  sublime, 

And  our  love  has  exalted  our  taste, 
To  follow  the  music  of  nature's  sweet  chime, 

Through  the  paths  colder  hearts  ne'er  have  traced. 

Then  come  with  me,  love,  let  us  mingle  our  joys, 

For  all  nature  is  working  to  charm  ; 
Each  element  now  a  sweet  magic  employs, 

And  the  good  have  no  cause  for  alarm. 

We  feel  the  quick  blood  rushing  warm  in  our  veins, 

Giving  life  to  each  joy  of  the  soul, 
But  still  we  remember  that  virtue  has  gains 

For  the  hearts  that  will  bear  its  control. 

What  bliss  then,  my  charmer,  your  fair  form  to  press, 
For  our  love  has  so  quickened  our  hearts  ! 

A  foretaste  of  heaven  I  know  we  possess, 
Though  we  tremble  from  Cupid's  keen  darts. 

Thus  fraught  let  us  gaze  on  the  summer  night's  sea, 
For  the  storm  from  the  ocean  has  flown  ; 

The  bright  gliding  waves  move  like  dancers  so  free, 
While  their  music  by  soft  winds  is  blown. 


8  THE  SUMMER  NIGHT'S  SEA. 

How  graceful  they  bound  on  the  bright  silver  beach, 

So  enchanting  the  shore  all  around  ; 
Faint  back  to  the  hills  their  rich  cadences  reach, 

Gently  mingling  with  vespertine  sound. 

The  moon-painted  hills  in  the  dim  distance  glow, 
Sweetly  blending  their  light  with  the  shade 

Of  darker  green  vales,  where  the  silver  streams  flow, 
Softly  swelling  their  sweet  serenade. 

With  meekness  so  charming,  the  little  vale  flowers 
Hang  their  sweet  drooping  heads,  while  the  dew 

From  heaven's  bright  stars  munificent  showers, 
So  their  freshness  and  beauty  renew. 

That  we  may  enjoy  every  region  of  love, 

Happy  nature  is  breathing  a  tune 
To  raise  our  glad  souls  to  the  heavens  above, 

Where  our  spirits  hold  lofty  commune. 

With  hearts  full  of  love,  how  enchanting  to  range 
Far  away  from  our  earth's  mortal  spheres  ! 

'Tis  love  that  completes  the  sweet  union  so  strange, 
Which  in  body  and  spirit  appears. 

Throw  light  on  our  bliss,  ever  glorious  orbs. 

With  the  beams  of  your  immortal  rays, 
Immensity's  range  all  but  love  now  absorbs, 

As  creation  its  wonder  displays. 

O  love-beaming  moon,  charming  queen  of  the  night, 

The  most  lavish  of  nocturnal  powers, 
With  generous  grace  you  now  share  the  sweet  light, 

Which  the  day-king  your  beauty  endowers. 


THE  MUSTER  DAY.  *       ITQ 

May  we  thus  reflect  on  our  lives'  darkened  ways, 

With  the  love  our  Creator  has  given, 
Thus  bright'ning  its  paths  like  the  moon's  cheering  rays, 

Kindly  lighting  life's  journey  to  heaven. 


THE  MUSTER  DAY. 

A  LOVELY  day  on  summer  broke, 
While  nature's  songsters  gladly  woke, 

Throughout  my  native  vale. 
The  river's  waters  brightly  shone, 
With  early  sunbeams  gayly  strown, 

While  waving  in  the  gale. 

Hills,  dales,  and  groves,  with  beauty  crowned, 
Combined  with  all  I  saw  around, 

My  sentient  mind  to  please  ; 
On  farm  and  village  fragrance  blew, 
While  all  the  land  shone  bright  and  new, 

Fanned  by  the  summer  breeze. 

It  was  a  happy  morn  for  me, 
With  all  my  senses  keen  and  free, 

And  yet  no  cause  for  sorrow. 
So  eighteen  summers  made  me  gay  ; 
The  trusty  morn  of  life  that  day 

Could  joys  from  future  borrow. 

For  this  was  on  a  muster  day, 
So  I  walked  o'er  the  pleasant  way 

With  thoughts  of  the  review. 
While  sparkling  meadow,  cove,  and  brook 
Such  beauty  on  their  surface  took, 

My  love  with  nature  grew. 


120      *  THE  MUSTER  DAY. 

Before  my  gaze  the  distance  reared 
Tall  city  spires,  which  then  appeared 

So  grand  against  the  skies. 
New  aspirations  in  me  rose, 
While  seeing  wealth  so  proud  disclose 

Its  grandeur  to  my  eyes. 

How  full  of  joys  the  future  seemed  ! 
Exhaustless  in  my  mind  they  beamed, 

As  I  walked  down  the  shore, 
Where  sloping  meads  their  greensward  spread, 
And  independent  forces  led, 

Amid  the  cannon's  roar. 

Loud  bugle  notes  the  clear  air  filled, 
And  while  my  ears  with  music  thrilled, 

I  watched  the  people  come 
To  hear  the  charms  of  swelling  sounds, 
While  manly  forms  filed  o'er  the  grounds, 

To  busy  fife  and  drum. 

While  strolling  through  the  happy  throng, 
With  eager  eyes  which  searched  along 

Among  the  beauties  there, 
They  caught  the  glances  of  a  girl, 
Which  set  my  bosom  in  a  whirl, 

She  was  so  bright  and  fair. 

Ah  !  Martha,  when  you  caught  my  eyes, 
My  virgin  heart  met  with  surprise 

Through  your  sweet  form  and  face  ; 
For  I  had  never  thought  or  dreamed 
Of  beauty  that  so  perfect  gleamed 

From  symmetry  and  grace. 


THE  MUSTER  DAY. 

Artistic  skill  ne'er  yet  impressed 
Such  lines  of  perfect  loveliness 

As  marked  your  graceful  form  ! 
The  strength  of  beauty's  power  was  proved  ; 
Such  magic  forces  from  you  moved, 

They  took  my  heart  by  storm. 

For  while  I  watched  your  perfect  shape, 
You  let  such  potent  charms  escape, 

My  passions  all  were  caught ; 
I  wondered  then  if  you  could  feel 
The  artful  forces  from  you  steal, 

Which  overcame  my  thought. 

Although  each  glance  sent  forth  a  spear, 
My  wounded  heart  still  felt  the  cheer 

Of  beauty's  magic  power. 
While  thus  my  passions  were  employed, 
I  felt  how  hopeless  they  enjoyed 

The  charms  of  that  brief  hour. 

For  reason  said  I  was  too  young 

To  cull  the  first  sweet  bloom  that  sprung 

On  youth's  uncertain  way  ; 
Yet  choice  and  fresh  my  heart  will  keep 
The  bloom  of  love  I  could  not  reap, 

Until  my  dying  day. 

More  sweet  than  music's  softest  strain, 
Bright  Martha's  graces  filled  my  brain  ; 

And  as  her  beauty  ever 
Its  charms  will  work  upon  my  heart, 
So  memory  while  time  doth  part, 

Will  keep  them  fresh  forever. 


122  THE   OLD  APPLE-TREE. 

Through  fleeting  years,  on  land  and  sea, 
Her  graceful  form  has  haunted  me 

In  visions  fair  and  bright, 
As  I  saw  her  on  muster  day, 
Where  she  so  queenly  made  display 

Of  beauty  to  my  sight. 
At  Sea,  1858. 


THE   OLD   APPLE-TREE. 

HERE'S  praise  to  thee,  old  apple-tree, 

That  stood  so  near  the  door 
Which  opened  on  a  home  of  love, 

And  shaded  it  before. 
In  early  spring  the  blue-birds  came, 

And  sang  their  cheerful  lay- 
Upon  the  limb  which  held  their  nests, 

Which  made  the  household  gay. 

And  just  before  your  buds  had  bloomed, 

To  shed  their  sweet  perfume, 
The  robins  came  their  nests  to  build, 

And  singing  to  resume. 
The  sparrows,  too,  which  winter's  storms 

Had  coldly  drove  away, 
Chirped  sweetly  forth  their  cheerful  song, 

Upon  their  native  spray. 

And  when  your  blossoms  first  put  forth, 

Our  swings  were  quickly  tied 
Fast  to  your  strong  and  spreading  boughs  ; 

How  joyful  we  did  ride  ! 
Our  mother  watched  us  from  the  door, 

Glad  witness  of  our  mirth  ; 


THE   OLD  APPLE-TREE.  123 

The  happiness  you  sheltered  then 
Was  ne'er  surpassed  on  earth. 

In  summer  time  your  cooling  shade 

Shed  comfort  round  our  sill, 
Where  we  could  sit  the  hottest  days, 

When  every  leaf  was  still. 
Then  father  from  his  labor  came 

To  rest  beneath  your  shade  ; 
With  loving  wife  and  little  ones, 

His  toil  was  richly  paid. 

When  evening  came  with  bright  moonshine, 

Beneath  your  branches  wide 
We  sat,  and  sang  our  heart-felt  songs, 

And  caused  sweet  hours  to  glide. 
And  when  the  clear,  bright  autumn  came, 

Your  strong  limbs  bent  to  hold 
Their  wealth  of  luscious  clustered  fruit, 

Which  shone  like  burnished  gold. 

Those  from  your  boughs  we  gathered  choice, 

To  keep  for  winter's  use  ; . 
While  part  we  pressed  for  their  rich  wine  — 

It  was  a  precious  juice. 
And  when  cold  winter  closed  our  door, 

How  pleasant  'twas  to  meet 
In  cozy  converse  round  the  fire, 

While  you  supplied  our  treat. 

When  older  grown,  gay  sleigh  bells  rang 

Beneath  your  boughs  so  free  ; 
Then  young  folks  met  to  pass  the  time, 

So  full  of  life  and  glee. 
Your  fruit  and  cider  was  brought  on, 

Which  all  our  joys  enhanced, 


I24  THE  HUSKING. 

Mid  repartees  of  wit  and  mirth, 
While  Jove  betrayed  its  glance. 

With  all  those  scenes  in  memory, 

What  other  wood  e'er  grew 
That  can  afford  one  half  the  joys 

Which  you  so  lavish  strew  ! 
Long  life  to  thee,  old  apple-tree, 

Which  in  all  seasons  brought 
A  comfort  to  my  dear  loved  home, 

And  now  so  cheers  my  thought ! 
October  10,  1860.     Lat.  13°  30'  N.;  Long.  37°  30'  W. 


THE   HUSKING. 

THE  autumn  moon  shone  bright  as  day  ; 

The  neighbors  were  invited 
To  help  the  squire  whose  harvest  lay 
Before  the  barn  ;  the  ground  was  gay 
With  corn  heaps  huge  :  'twas  a  display 

That  every  eye  delighted. 

The  husking  field  was  on  the  rise 
That  slopes  down  to  the  river, 

On  which  a  busy  grist  mill  plies. 

A  church  and  school-house  greet  the  eyes, 

Beyond  the  pond  that  mocks  the  skies 
In  clear,  still  autumn  weather. 

Each  young  heart  with  impatience  beat 

To  join  the  husking  party  ; 
The  squire  was  famous  for  a  treat, 
And  all  the  country  maids  would  meet, 


THE  HUSKING.  125 

And  in  the  moonlight  smiling  greet 
The  young  men  gay  and  hearty. 

Our  chores  all  done,  with  brisk  delight 

We  saw  the  huskers  rally. 
Hill,  vale,  and  river  charmed  our  sight ; 
The  groves  with  recent  frost  looked  bright, 
While  moon  and  stars  ne'er  gave  more  light 

Than  then  illumed  our  valley. 

A  merry  row  we  young  folks  showed  \ 
The  corn  cobs  cracked  before  us  ; 

With  cheering  songs  the  cider  flowed  ; 

The  golden  ears  in  heaps  we  stowed, 

Which  in  the  moonlight  brightly  glowed, 
While  all  joined  in  the  chorus. 

Near  by  our  row  the  older  guests 

Were  taking  not  less  pleasure, 
To  know  the  season  had  been  blessed  ; 
Each  heart  gained  pleasure  from  the  rest, 
In  pleasing  news  or  happy  jest, 

While  nature  gave  her  treasure. 

We  forfeits  paid  for  each  red  ear, 

Among  us  lads  and  lasses  ; 
All  hearts  were  merry  with  good  cheer, 
While  they  that  listened  plain  could  hear 
Love  kisses  given  without  fear, 

Amid  the  rustling  masses. 

I  had  my  eye  on  one  bright  maid,  — 

She  was  the  squire's  relation,  — 
And  ne'er  was  pastime  better  paid  ; 
For  when  a  red  ear  to  her  strayed, 
Her  blushing  face  at  once  betrayed, 

I  thought,  an  invitation. 


126  THE  HUSKING. 

Like  thought  I  sprang  to  take  my  prize, 
So  tempting,  from  the  maiden. 

It  was  indeed  a  rich  surprise  ; 

Love  drew  such  sweets  from  mouth  and  eyes, 

My  feasting  lips  were  slow  to  rise, 
Like  bees  when  honey  laden. 

We  both  were  conscious  in  that  kiss 

We  felt  a  new  sensation  ; 
Our  hearts  had  tasted  such  sweet  bliss 
It  called  for  an  analysis, 
So  after  that  this  lovely  Miss 

Was  my  chief  contemplation. 

Beyond  the  husk-heaps  in  our  rear 
The  farm-house  stood  inviting, 

Beneath  the  moon  and  stars  so  clear ; 

So  when  each  husk  had  lost  an  ear, 

We  all  enjoyed  its  ample  cheer, 
While  country  sports  reciting. 

And  when  our  merry  feast  was  done 

And  girls  were  homeward  going, 
Each  beau  sought  out  the  maid  whose  fun 
A  rival's  kiss  had  sought  to  shun, 
And  thus  betrayed  her  heart  was  won, 
While  love  was  overflowipg. 

I  sought  the  girl  that  kissed  so  well, 
A  kiss  my  heart  now  treasures  ; 

On  that  bright  night  I  love  to  dwell ; 

Love  ruled  so  happy  for  a  spell 

It  moves  me  even  now  to  tell 
My  early  country  pleasures. 
At  Sea. 


THE  DANDELION.  I27 


THE   DANDELION. 

EARTH'S  dreary  form  is  hardly  hid 

Behind  the  robes  of  spring, 
When  your  bright,  golden,  sunny  face 

Doth  gladness  to  me  bring : 
Along  my  path  you  spread  your  bloom, 

In  spite  of  winter's  frown, 
The  brightest  one  of  nature's  gems, 

To  deck  spring's  verdant  crown. 

When  chilly  days  would  stop  your  growth, 

The  robin  warbled  sweet, 
And  you,  impulsive  in  your  love, 

His  plaintive  song  would  greet  ; 
So  you  have  gayly  ventured  forth, 

And  opened  to  the  skies 
The  cheering  beauty  of  your  bloom, 

To  give  him  glad  surprise. 

The  warbler's  song  more  cheerful  grows, 

And  brighter  grows  the  morn, 
And  spring  doth  wear  a  sweeter  smile, 

When  you  her  ways  adorn  ; 
For  swarded  lanes  and  cottage  greens, 

That  you  with  beauty  strew, 
She  knows  will  soon  be  spangled  o'er, 

Like  stars  on  heaven's  blue. 

Thou  art  a  bright  and  lovely  flower, 

To  bloom  the  trodden  way  ; 
I  often  fear  you  will  be  crushed 

Where  feet  so  careless  stray. 
Thus  you  are  brave,  as  well  as  fair, 

Like  some  bright  virtue  born 


128  THE  DANDELION. 

To  bloom  upon  life's  hopeful  spring, 
Each  crushing  vice  to  scorn. 

Endearing  emblem  of  the  love 

Which  blooms  in  humble  life, 
And  gives  its  cheer  to  weary  hearts, 

To  conquer  ills  and  strife  ; 
For  love,  like  you,  will  bloom  on  ways 

Where  chilling  trials  cower, 
Thus  making  glad  life's  common  paths, 

Like  spots  you  gayly  flower. 

To  gladden  childhood's  sunny  hours, 

You  deck  both  lawn  and  farm ; 
Of  all  the  flowers  which  nature  gives, 

You  yield  the  brightest  charm. 
What  sweet,  confiding  innocence 

Your  sleep  at  evening  shows, 
A  type  of  childhood's  trusting  life, 

Before  it  evil  knows. 

When  summer's  pleasant  life  has  fled 

From  autumn's  chilling  blast, 
You  are  the  last  bright  flower  to  stay, 

Of  all  the  joyous  past. 
Thus  you  begin  and  end  the  year 

Of  nature's  happy  bloom, 
The  first  and  last  to  turn  the  heart 

From  winter's  dreary  gloom. 

When,  you  are  white,  or  bald  with  age, 

Respectfully  I  tread 
Along  the  path  you  once  made  glad, 

For  you  have  bloomed  to  shed 
Your  seeds  to  deck  another  spring, 

Like  virtues  in  the  soul, 


THE  SONG   OF  THE  MILK  PAIL.  129 

Which  never  die,  but  constant  live, 
Fresh  beauties  to  unroll. 
At  Sea,  November  4,  1860. 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  MILK  PAIL. 

AGAIN  in  the  country  sweet  leisure  I  find, 

While  calm  summer  twilight  makes  pensive  my  mind  ; 

The  past  so  eventful  again  reappears, 

Confessing  its « joys  and  affections  and  tears. 

While  slowly  the  landscape  is  fading  from  sight, 
The  robins  late  song  blends  the  day  with  the  night ; 
The  hush  of  the  eve  gives  a  charm  to  each  note, 
So  soft  to  my  ear  through  the  twilight  they  float. 

The  whip-poor-will  tunes  to  the  frog's  dreamy  peep, 
But  still  rarer  music  upon  me  doth  sweep  ; 
'Tis  a  note  from  the  cowfold,  the  charm  of  the  vale, 
A  sweet  sound  of  milking,  that  sings  from  the  pail. 

How  oft  in  my  youth  I  have  heard  that  sweet  sound 
Soft  mingle  with  notes  which  in  even  abound  ; 
How  fresh  it  recalls  the  old  homestead  so  dear, 
Which   nourished   my  childhood  with  love   and   good 
cheer ! 

This  rich,  mellow  song  tells  my  heart  a  fond  tale, 
As  it  flows  from  the  udder  and  sings  from  the  pail ; 
A  throng  of  dear  faces,  by  home's  cheerful  board, 
To  love's  recollection  are  kindly  restored. 

1869. 

9 


I3°  A   MOTHER'S  STORY. 


A  MOTHER'S  STORY. 

AN  anxious  day  had  faded  out, 
While  sorrow  brooded  o'er  my  home  ; 

My  eldest  son  that  morn  had  sailed, 
On  distant  oceans  long  to  roam. 

It  was  the  first  cut  fate  had  made, 
My  darling  tree  of  love  to  thin, 

Its  tender  branches  felt  the  wound, 
Which  bled  each  loving  heart  within. 

Our  supper  hour  was  fraught  with  gloom, 
His  vacant  place  did  so  impress  ; 

My  little  daughter,  four  years  old, 
Began  to  question  our  distress. 

She  said,  "  Where  is  my  brother  Charles  ?  " 

With  much  affectionate  alarm. 
We  told  her  Charles  had  gone  to  sea, 

Still  nothing  would  her  brother  harm. 

She  read  our  faces  with  concern, 

And  saw  each  wore  an  anxious  look, 

Then  all  at  once,  in  doubt  and  fear, 
Her  little  form  with  grief  was  shook. 

She  wept  as  though  her  heart  would  break  ; 

We  tried  to  soothe  her  gushing  tears, 
But  words  and  acts  betrayed  our  hearts, 

And  only  added  to  her  fears. 

Our  pent-up  sorrow  then  broke  loose, 
Before  her  simple,  childish  grief; 

Five  mournful  hearts  found  vent  in  tears, 
The  only  thing  to  bring  relief. 


THE    YOUNG  HEART'S  IDEAL.  131 

Her  toiling,  patient,  silent  sire, 

Who  bore  his  troubles  in  disguise, 
Kept  back  emotion  from  his  face, 

Except  the  tears  that  filled  his  eyes. 

He  knew  much  peril,  time,  and  strife 
Must  pass  before  the  voyage  was  done, 

And  then  perhaps  the  fickle  deep 
Might  ne'er  return  his  absent  son. 

Long  years  had  passed  :  again  my  son 

His  vacant  place  at  supper  filled. 
We  then  recalled  our  grieving  hour, 

So  each  fond  heart  again  was  thrilled. 

Though  I  have  lived  since  many  years, 
And  had  love's  branches  pruned  away, 

But  ne'er  has  grief  o'errun  my  heart, 
More  than  the  first  sad  parting  day. 
1868. 


THE  YOUNG  HEART'S  IDEAL. 

IN  life's  hopeful  spring,  while  our  young  hearts  are  single, 
And  strong,  flowing  passions  rise  warm  on  the  soul, 

Our  virginal  fancies  are  seeking  to  mingle 
With  some  kindred  spirit,  its  love  to  unroll. 

We  then  all  turn  artists,  and  form  our  ideal, 
Possessing  the  virtues  young  hearts  ever  feel ; 

With  all  its  perfections  our  model  seems  real, 
While  to  our  fond  image  we  mentally  kneel. 


I32  THE    YOUNG  HEART'S  IDEAL. 

Then  through  the  world's  gallery  we  all  go  exploring, 

To  find  our  ideal  in  some  human  guise, 
But  in  our  wide  search  we  are'  constant  deploring, 

How  few  have  the  virtues  we  most  highly  prize. 

In  our  grand  prize  hunting  we  all  have  our  notion  ; 

In  looking  for  virtues  our  model  possessed, 
First,  beauty  is  sought  to  yield  up  her  portion, 

But  beauty  with  virtues  is  not  always  blessed. 

Should  beauty  fall  short  of  our  heart  pleasing  picture, 
Renounced  it  should  be  by  the  good  and  the  true, 

Who  look  for  some  virtue  to  govern  each  feature, 
To  match  with  the  image  they  mentally  drew. 

Too  often  we  yield  to  a  mere  worldly  passion, 
While  hastily  searching  true  models  to  find, 

And  thus  cheat  our  souls  with  wealth,  beauty,  or  fashion, 
Degrading  the  image  first  formed  in  the  mind. 

The  world's  fancy  daubs  ever  strive  for  displacing 
The  picture  we  painted  before  worldly  strife, 

Whose  dyes  are  too  deep  in  the  heart  for  erasing, 
Contrasting  its  beauty  with  pictures  from  life. 

For  what's  more  debasing  to  souls  than  a  marriage, 
When  nothing  but  earthly  materials  bind  ! 

O !  why,  so  unthinking,  our  poor  souls  disparage  ! 
Seek  rather  a  lifetime  our  models  to  find  ! 
At  Sea,  August,  1859. 


MY  NATIVE    TIDES.  *33 


MY   NATIVE  TIDES. 

MY  native  tides  forever  flow, 

And  cause  a  thousand  hearts  to  glow ; 

Could  I  to  you  such  praise  bestow 

As  my  heart  owes, 

The  dullest  minds  would  eager  learn, 
And  in  your  landscapes  well  discern 
Such  beauties  as  would  make  them  turn 

From  other  shows. 

My  childhood  rambled  on  your  shore, 
Hill,  grove,  and  vale  glad  to  explore, 
While  nature  showed  her  wondrous  store 

To  my  young  mind. 
Through  every  season  you  revealed 
More  beauties  than  my  mind  could  wield, 
For  nature  to  me  then  unsealed 

Her  rich  design. 

When  winter's  mantle  robed  the  earth, 
Your  hills  and  tide  gave  pleasure  birth  ; 
On  sled  and  skates  I  sped  with  mirth 

In  keen,  clear  air. 

Your  thoroughfares  with  sound  were  gay, 
As  swift  sleighs  jingled  on  their  way, 
And  winter's  white  and  pure  array 

Was  bright  and  fair. 

When  cheerful  dandelions'  bloom 
Had  chased  away  the  stormy  gloom, 
And  warblers  filled  bright  nature's  room 

With  tuneful  voice, 
Your  sunny  slopes  I  loved  to  roam, 
By  lichened  rocks,  the  violet's  home, 


134  MY  NA  TIVE   TIDES. 

And  there  beneath  broad  nature's  dome 
Hear  spring  rejoice. 

And  when  the  evening  shades  drew  near, 
The  turtle's  song  would  charm  my  ear  ; 
Each  brook  and  pond  was  tuned  to  cheer 

The  coming  night. 

The  robin's  song,  so  plaint  and  sweet, 
My  musing  sunset  hours  would  greet, 
While  closed  my  childish  days  complete, 

With  heavenly  light. 

When  summer  smiled  on  mead  and  grove, 
How  pleasant  then  it  was  to  rove, 
And  with  sweet  nature  fall  in  love 

In  your  gay  clime. 
From  rock  and  rill  I  then  reviewed 
Your  vale  and  wave,  and  felt  imbued 
With  feelings  not  to  be  subdued 

Through  years  of  time. 

In  your  green  woods,  with  playmates  young, 
[  berries  picked,  and  tall  trees  swung; 
Your  zephyrs  breathed,  and  sweet  hay  flung, 

Upon  your  meads. 

And  when  the  tides  swelled  to  your  brim, 
How  merrily  we  went  to  swim  ! 
So  we  enjoyed  each  pleasing  whim 

Youth's  fancy  breeds. 

On  those  gay  days  I  love  to  dote, 
When  we  prepared  our  lines  and  boat, 
And  bravely  set  ourselves  afloat, 

To  sail,  or  fish. 

We  often  ventured  down  the  bay, 
Where  lofty  ships  at  anchor  lay;' 


MY  NATIVE    TIDES.  135 

To  be  a  man  such  ships  to  sway, 
Was  then  our  wish. 

At  times  we'd  land  on  some  green  isle, 
And  recall  Crusoe,  poor  exile, 
Fictitiously  our  hours  to  while 

In  pleasing  thought. 
For  our  young  minds  could  not  discern 
The  many  trials  years  would  learn  ; 
Our  boyish  hearts  felt  small  concern 

For  what  age  taught. 

When  autumn's  harvest  made  display, 
And  woodlands  in  their  bright  array 
Gave  splendor  to  each  lustrous  day, 

Then  mingled  all, 
The  gay,  the  pensive,  and  sublime, 
Each  phase  in  harmony  to  chime. 
Rich  thoughts  I  garnered  at  each  time 

Of  nature's  fall. 

Since  then  I've  sailed  far  from  your  shores, 
Long  months  I've  passed  in  dreary  scores  ; 
Yet  full  of  recollection's  stores, 

I  ne'er  forget 

The  place  that  yielded  so  much  joy, 
And  gave  my  happy  youth  employ. 
No  other  tide  my  heart  can  buoy, 

Like  your  waves  yet. 
At  Sea. 


THE  SPANISH  MAIN. 


THE   SPANISH   MAIN. 

'TWAS  years  ago  I  cruised  the  seas  along  the  Spanish 
Main, 

With  heart  as  buoyant  as  the  craft  that  I  sailed  in  for 
gain; 

Proud  nature's  grandeur  there  I  viewed  ;  'twas  a  stupend 
ous  show ! 

Huge  mountains  based  by  ocean  waves,  with  peaks  white 
capt  with  snow : 

Bright  from  their  elevated  sides,  clear  gushing  streams 
did  pour, 

To  cool  the  blooming  tropic  vales  that  smiled  along  the 
shore. 

How  oft  against  such  mountain  steeps  I  found  a  sheltered 

bay, 

In  which  my  bonny  little  craft  could  snug  at  anchor  lay ; 
There  too  I  found  a  paradise,  with  joyous  hearts  like  mine, 
Where  nature  held  her  grandest  court,  with  people  more 

than  kind ; 
For    love,    with    captivating    grace,    with    nature    ruled 

supreme  ; 
Though  years  have  passed,  I  think  it  o'er  —  it  seems  a 

pleasant  dream. 

There  beauty  with  seducing  smile  would  oft  the  sailor  greet, 
Well  pleased  to  welcome  to  its  home,  and  give  its  rarest 

treat. 
With  joy  I've  wandered  through  its  vales,  and  culled  its 

sweetest  charms, 
Amid  vast   nature's   grandest   scenes,  where   love   ne'er 

thought  of  harms  ; 

I  now  recall  an  incident  which  happened  to  me  there, 
How  a  young  maiden  gained  my  love,  she  was  so  winning 

fair. 


THE  SPANISH  MAIN.  137 

We  met  while  early  vespers  tuned  ;  so  pleasant  was  the 

hour, 
That  love   seemed  softly  whispering,  in  rural    nook  and 

bower. 
My  heart  was  charmed  with  holy  sounds  as  tolled   the 

peaceful  chime, 
While  bright  a  maiden's  glances  sped  beneath  the   sunny 

clime, 
Which  sent  my  young  blood  flowing  swift,  and   thrilling 

through  each  vein  ; 
And  why  our  faces  flushed  so  warm,  young  hearts  can  best 

explain. 

All  this  grand  region  round  was  kind,  and  love  was  free 

as  air, 
The  cold  restraint  of  northern  climes  had  not  been  carried 

there  ; 

So  love-lit  passion  freely  shot  from  young  impulsive  eyes, 
While  both  of  ours  were  happy  aimed,  for  both  hearts  felt 

surprise. 

In  all  the  meetings  casual  that  e'er  engaged  young  hearts, 
Ne'er  yet  did  strangers  have  recourse  so  soon  to  Cupid's 

darts. 

Dark  glossy  hair,  large  brilliant  eyes,  became  her  maiden 

grace ; 
Both   Indian  and  Spanish   blood  rich  blended  I  could 

trace  ; 
Her  dress  was  fitted  to  her  form,  and  shawl  so  graceful 

worn, 
That  every  move  of  her  fine  shape  it  seemed  fresh  to 

adorn ; 
And  then  to  crown  our  new  surprise,  the  pleasant  vale  we 

walked, 
Each  happy  in  a  new-found  joy  ;  in  accents  soft  we  talked. 


J38  THE  SPANISH  MAIN. 

The  evening  landscape  was  sublime  ;  a  splendid  golden 
blaze 

Filled  all  the  western  sky  and  sea,  where  gleamed  the 
sunset  rays, 

While  clouds  formed  brilliant  canopies  to  arch  Pacific's 
tide, 

And  lofty  mountains  opposite  towered  heavenward  with 
pride, 

Reflecting  bright  the  gorgeous  rays  their  majesty  in 
creased, 

With  grandeur  lighting  up  the  shades  that  fain  would  dim 
the  east. 

We  soon  arrived  at  my  love's  cot,  which  was  of  tropic 

make, 
Its  bamboo  front  so  gold-like  shone  against  the  rich  green 

brake ; 
Its  shades  were  cooled  by  waters  clear,  which  from  the 

mountains  run, 
While  flowers  of  winning  scent  and  hue  lay  open  to   the 

sun. 
Here  I  enjoyed  a  charming  treat,  in  which  my  love  was 

skilled  ; 
While  I  refreshed,  her  light  guitar  the  air    with  music 

filled. 

The  graceful  sisters  of  my  love  my  presence  kindly  met, 
With  other  beauties  of  the  vale,  who  formed  a  pleasing  set. 
All  were  adorned  in  their  best  style,  to  have  an  evening 

dance  ; 
From  every  eye  of  that  gay  throng  I  caught  a  happy 

glance. 
Soon  their  male  partners  gathered  round  with  courtesy  and 

grace, 
Proud  nature's  gentlemen  they  seemed,  fit  for  the  time  and 

place. 


THE  SPANISH  MAIN.  139 

'Twas  then  a  beauty  of  th.e  land  gave  us  the  lively  strains 

Of  sweet  fandango's  witching  song,  where  grace  so  charm 
ing  reigns, 

There  with  my  maid  I  joyous  moved,  in  cadence  to  the 
tune, 

While  with  each  thought  and  act  of  love,  our  passions 
found  commune ; 

Her  perfect  form  and  native  grace  showed  charms  in 
every  shape, 

While  from  her  eyes  love  glances  flew ;  not  one  could  I 
escape. 

A  month  was  passed  in  pleasure's  rounds  —  a  happy  tropic 

moon  ; 

Then  came  regrets  that  I  must  leave  my  amorette  so  soon  ; 
Though  I,  a  rover,  had  been  used  to  bidding  love  farewell, 
Yet  now  my  heart  was  loth  to  leave  the  maid  it  loved  so 

well. 

We  fondly  hoped  to  meet  again,  with  our  last  parting  kiss, 
And  once  again  enjoy  the  love  that  yielded  so  much  bliss. 

But  ne'er  again  in  all  my  life  could  I  that  region  gain, 

So  I  could  once  more  greet  my  love,  down  on  the  Spanish 

Main. 

But  memory  hums  o'er  the  tune,  amusing  tedious  hours 
With  gay  fandango's  winning  strains,  we  danced  in  tropic 

bowers. 

It's  then  I  see  my  love  again,  as  she  once  danced  with  me, 
Where  nature  formed  a  paradise  mid  mountains  by  the 

sea. 
December  25,  1860.    Lat.  32°  S.;  Long.  42°  W. 


140  THE  CALIFORNIA  PIONEERS 


THE  CALIFORNIA  PIONEERS. 

O  GIVE  me  California,  as  'twas  in  forty-eight, 

Before    mankind  o'erran    its   wilds,   and    turned   it   to  a 

State ; 

For  then  its  rivers  ran  as  pure  as  crystal  from  the  snow 
That  bleached  the  Sierras'  lofty  peaks,  so  lavish  to  bestow 
Upon  their  blooming  valleys  green,  a  thousand  dancing' 

streams, 

Rejoicing  in  their  golden  sands,  which  crowned  the  min 
er's  dreams. 

Then  we,  the  pioneer  boys,  could  fish,  and  hunt  for  game, 
Or  dig  for  gold  just  when  we  chose,  or  squander  it  the 
same. 

The  land  was  rife  with  elk  and  deer ;  how  fearlessly  they 

grazed 

Upon  the  Sacramento's  banks,  and  how  they  stood  amazed 
As  our  adventurous  sails  moved  on,  along  the  pleasant 

shade, 
Which  zephyr  breezes  gentle  swelled,  from  reach  and  level 

glade  ! 
And  when  on  shore,  how  swift  we  coursed  the  airy  hills 

and  plains, 
Upon  our  lively  running  steeds,  broke  to  our  spurs  and 

reins ! 
Thus  we  broke  nature's  solitude,  while  fear  its  wild  life 

thrilled, 

So  quick  and  true  our  rifles  aimed,  and  wild  beasts  fre 
quent  killed. 

O  !   such  a  wild  and  wayward  life,  the  world  ne'er  saw 

before, 
And  when  I  dwell  on  those  rare  times,  my  heart  feels  to 

deplore 


THE  CALIFORNIA  PIONEERS.  141 

That  civilization  broke  th.e  charm,  and  made  wild  nature 
flee; 

For  then  we  used  to  drink  and  cheer  beneath  the  green 
wood  tree, 

Where  now  are  cities  full  of  life,  I  oft  feel  lone  and 
sad; 

I  look  in  vain  for  comrades  now,  who  used  to  make  me 
glad, 

And  drink  to  toasts  of  wit  and  mirth,  and  anecdotes  of 
strife, 

As  they  wheeled  on  their  prancing  steeds  with  shouts  of 
merry  life. 

For  then  it  seemed  the  restless  souls,  that  roamed  about 

our  sphere, 
Had   by  some  strange   attractive  force  all  met  in  wild 

career  — 
The  backwoodsman,  and  traveller,   and    sailor  from  the 

wave ; 

Such  specimens  of  human  life  the  world  scarce  ever  gave. 
Yet  they  had  all  some  common  traits,  all  reckless,  brave, 

and  free, 
And  all  were  lavish  with  their  gold,  when  it  would  buy  a 

spree  ; 
For  all  well  knew  of  diggings  then,  where  gold  was  found 

in  veins, 
That  yielded  rich  with  little  toil ;  and  what  cared  we  for 

gains  ! 

We  pitched  our  tents  and  made  our  camp  beneath  the 

spreading  oak, 
And  staked  our  horses   in  the  vale,  while   joyfully  we 

broke 

On  nature's  virgin  solitudes  with  songs  and  merry  cheer, 
While  bear,  coyote,  deer,  and  wolf  their  covers  sought  in 

fear. 


142  THE  CALIFORNIA  PIONEERS. 

And  vengeful  savage  Indians  were  often  lurking  round, 

But  instinct  made  them  shun  our  path  —  they  knew  who 
ruled  the  ground. 

We  lived  a  fast  and  reckless  life,  at  naught  did  we  re 
pine, 

So  California  had  its  charms  in  forty-eight  and  nine. 

Now  what  has  civilization  done  ?     We  know  it  has  built 

towns. 
And  likewise  muddied  all  the  streams,  and  dug  up  nature's 

grounds  ; 
It's  scared  the  rivers  of  their  fish,  the  deer  have  fled  the 

brakes, 
The  wild  fowl  now  no  longer  crowd  the  rivers,  bays,  and 

lakes ; 
The  bear,  and  wolf,  and  Indian  wild,  which  nature  kindly 

nursed, 

Are  like  the  rest  of  her  choice  pets,  all  killed  or  else  dis 
persed, 

While  pioneers,  brave  jovial  boys,  who  lived  so  free  and  gay, 
Are  scarcely  seen  upon  the  grounds  which   they  once  held 

in  sway. 

And  worse  than  all  it  seems  that  gold  is  getting  scarce  or 

proud, 

For  it  don't  seem  to  circulate,  as  't  used  to,  in  a  crowd. 
In  good  old  times,  why  every  man  possessed  his  bag  of 

dust  ! 

The  happy  trader  hardly  knew,  then,  what  it  was  to  trust ; 
But  now  for  us  the  times  have  changed ;  although  our 

mines  are  clear 
Of  savage  Indians  and  wild  beasts,  yet  much  we  lack  in 

cheer. 
Since  civilization  hems  us  round,  and  claims  most  of  the 

land, 

We  pioneers  are  not  so  gay,  or  nature  half  so  grand. 
At  Sea,  February,  1860. 


SUBLIMITY  AND  DANGER.  143 


SUBLIMITY  AND  DANGER. 

WHEN  heaven  to  earth  its  foretaste  would  reveal, 

It  lends  transcendent  beauties  to  our  sphere. 
Sublimity  is  sent  to  make  us  feel 

The  ecstasy  of  such  a  high  career. 
This  ray  of  heaven  now  would  rule  the  earth, 

Did  not  the  evils  of  the  depths  below 
To  frighten  souls  give  dreadful  dangers  birth, 

To  mingle  all  our  happiness  with  woe. 

When  high  sublimity  with  grandeur  crowns 

The  noble  features  of  our  earth  and  sky, 
Then  danger's  fearful  image  comes  and  frowns 

Amid  the  splendors  which  allure   the  eye. 
Sublimity,  attending  nature's  force, 

With  danger's  threatening  form  is  ever  rife, 
While  all  the  powers  of  darkness,  in  their  course, 

Have  danger's  fearful  ghost  to  give  them  life. 

In  looking  o'er  the  surface  of  our  world, 

Sublime  with  wealth  and  power  the  nations  stand ; 
But  danger  with  its  dreadful  hand  has  hurled 

Disease  and  war  upon  the  fairest  land. 
Devouring  conflagrations  light  our  towns, 

So  night  is  made  sublime  with  lurid  flames  ; 
Then  danger's  dreadful  visage  on  us  frowns, 

Our  homes  and  wealth  its  dire  destruction  claims. 

Vast  tropic  seas  which  earth's  green  islands  bound 
Are  swept  by  hurricanes  sublime  in  power  ; 

The  elements  at  war  terrific  sound, 

And  show  a  picture  worthy  of  the  hour. 

Huge  danger  lurks  throughout  the  dreadful  scene  ; 
Its  form  pervades  the  waves  that  drown  the  deck, 


144  SUBLIMITY  AND  DANGER. 

Or  some  dark  cloud  may  clothe  its  fearful  mien, 
While  shooting  lightnings  down  upon  the  wreck. 

Bleak  ocean  was-tes  are  swept  by  fearful  gales ; 

Sublime  the  mountain  swell  rolls  o'er  their  tides, 
While  dangers  huge  the  gallant  ship  assails, 

As  she  so  bravely  o'er  their  fury  rides. 
Tall  icebergs  stand  above  the  stormy  waves, 

Sublime  they  loom  amid  the  chilling  air, 
And  while  the  dashing  ocean  round  them  raves, 

What  dangers  seem  reflected  from  their  glare  !. 

When  nature's  majesty  sublimely  crowns 

The  towering  mountains  of  her  giant  lands, 
Then  danger  comes  to  haunt  the  lofty  grounds, 

And  hang  upon  their  steeps  with  fearful  hands. 
At  times  to  some  huge  glacier  it  will  stray, 

On  shelving  parts  to  throw  its  dreadful  weight ; 
The  vales  below  are  filled  with  dire  dismay, 

As  down  it  tumbles  with  its  crushing  freight. 

When  burning  mountains  in  their  direful  throe 

Sublimely  light  the  skies  with  fiery  breath, 
Then  danger  rules  a  dreadful  scene  below, 

On  fertile  valleys  spreading  fear  and  death. 
When  earthquakes  jar  to  mighty  nature's  laws, 

And  awful  thunder  crowns  the  scene  sublime, 
Then  danger  opens  wide  its  hungry  jaws  — 

The  dreadful  monster  of  a  fearful  time. 

Sublimity  is  wont  to  place  its  seal 

Upon  some  roaring  torrent  in  its  fall ; 

It's  then  our  minds  the  force  of  danger  feel, 
Its  frightful  acts  our  sympathies  appall. 

We  see  it  dashing  headlong  down  the  rocks, 
With  hopeless  terror  in  its  dying  face ; 


SUBLIMITY  AND  DANGER.  145 

Its  drowning  feats  our  fancy  sorely  shocks, 
While  down  the  angry  flood  its  form  we  trace. 

A  dreary  desert  stretches  far  and  wide  ; 

Sublime  to  view  its  barren  wastes  appear, 
But  danger's  famished  form  doth  here  abide, 

To  haunt  the  caravans  which  o'er  it  steer ; 
A  sand-cloud  rises  with  the  whirling  storm, 

Then  danger  shows  itself  amid  the  air  ; 
Its  scorching  mass,  with  dire,  o'erwhelming  form, 

Soon  drives  the  faint  spectator  to  despair. 

On  some  contending  battle-field  we  sight 

The  greatest  efforts  of  mankind  arrayed  ; 
Sublimity  has  clothed  this  scene  of  might, 

While  danger  comes  to  blight  the  grand  parade  ; 
Its  fearful  form  is  wrapt  in  sulphurous  smoke, 

The  dreadful  roar  of  cannon  sounds  its  name, 
Through  fierce  opposing  ranks  its  strength  has  broke, 

While  on  its  back  some  hero  rides  to  fame. 

We  see  religious  creeds  the  earth  o'erspread ; 

Sublime  through  them  man's  future  life  appears. 
Yet  in  this  host  of  souls,  how  many  dread 

The  consummation  of  their  hopes  and  fears  ! 
Still  truth  will  stand  eternally  sublime, 

Where  danger's  forces  never  can  do  harm  ; 
On  its  high  range  we  heavenward  may  climb, 

Above  the  life  which  errors  now  alarm. 
10 


146  AMBITION. 


AMBITION. 

AMBITION  oft  aspires  to  such  high  'ends, 

It  moves  the  soul  to  deeds  of  wondrous  force  ; 
The  genius  of  the  mind  is  made  intense, 

To  take  advantage  of  some  great  resource. 
It  seeks  some  place  of  glory,  in  the  bounds 

Of  human  might,  but  high  above  the  aim 
Of  worldly  millions  ;  yet  within  their  grounds, 

So  all  mankind  may  bow  before  a  name. 

Ambition,  with  its  wonder-working  power, 

Collects  the  vast  materials  of  its  age, 
And  piles  them  up  to  form  a  lofty  tower, 

Then  proudly  strives  to  stand  on  its  high  stage. 
It  craves  to  be  a  statue  of  all  time, 

The  torch  of  fame  to  hold  high  o'er  the  land, 
A  sight  for  those  who  would,  but  cannot  climb, 

For  want  of  circumstance  to  form  their  plan. 

Ambition's  towers,  oft  built  of  human  woes, 

Would  vainly  raise  its  tyrant  builders  high ; 
But  Time  with  wise  discernment  overthrows 

The  fame  of  such  as  would  disgrace  the  sky. 
Then  let  Ambition's  monuments  be  formed 

Of  deeds  of  worth  and  justice,  firm  and  true  : 
Such  are  the  heights  Time's  forces  ne'er  have  stormed  ; 

There  stand  the  statues  of  the  noble  few. 


THE  FLEET  OF  BOOKS.  147 


THE   FLEET   OF   BOOKS. 

TIME,  like  the  sea,  sweeps  on  its  constant  round, 

With  naught  but  vast  eternity  to  bound  ; 

Where  ages,  like  swift  currents,  onward  roll 

Beyond  the  anxious  vision  of  the  soul. 

Its  shores  through  distance  are  but  dimly  seen, 

While  generations  heave  like  waves  between  ; 

But  while  the  mind  on  this  vast  sea  doth  dwell, 

We  float  along  upon  its  living  swell, 

The  great  wave  of  our  time,  whose  dashing  roar 

Would  carry  nothing  to  far  future's  shore, 

Except  one  lonesome  wave,  whose  toiling  life 

Would  move  in  nothing  but  its  single  strife. 

All  would  be  savage,  lonely,  drear,  and  dark, 

But  for  our  fleet  of  books ;  which,  like  the  ark, 

Brave  glide  along  o'er  each  successive  wave, 

In  numbers  gaining,  saving  from  the  grave 

Man's  precious  stores  of  thought  from  time's  deep  sea. 

Thus  on  they  glide  majestic,  brave,  and  free  ; 

While  each  new  wave  forever  strives  to  drown 

This  diverse  modeled  fleet,  all  must  be  sound, 

Their  magnet  must  possess  a  truthful  -force, 

So  stormy  time  cannot  derange  their  course. 

We  see  the  work  of  thought,  so  ancient  strown 
On  ruined  cities,  tombs,  and  sculptured  stone, 
Old  wasting  land-marks  beaten  by  time's  waves, 
To  serve  as  beacons  for  the  fleet  that  saves 
Man's  choicest  thought  from  out  oblivion's  deep ; 
From  such  departures  on  their  course  they  sweep, 
While  here  and  there  some  famous  signal  flies, 
Blown  by  the  storms  of  time  which  sweep  the  skies, 
Dispersing  error's  clouds,  which  dim  the  spheres  ; 
So  guiding  stars  shine  out,  while  knowledge  steers ; 


NARRAGANSET  BAY. 

Yet  each  strong  gale,  which  star  and  flag  unfurls, 
Is  the  same  force  which  to  destruction  hurls 
Unworthy  hulks,  which  man  so  constant  makes, 
And  in  his  egotism  oft  mistakes 
For  standard  models  ;  but  we  soon  discern 
The  good  and  sound,  the  faulty  soon  o'erturn, 
While  each  true  craft  is  washed  of  all  the  trash 
Which  ignorance  and  superstitions  lash 
To  buoyant  decks,  to  float  time's  rugged  tide. 
Thus  each  sound  volume  safely  onward  glides, 
With  man's  salvation,  to  bright  future's  shore, 
A  wealth  well  worthy  to  be  wafted  o'er. 


NARRAGANSET   BAY. 

O  NARRAGANSET,  lovely  bay, 

How  sweet  to  while  the  summer  hours 
Where  your  bright  tides  so  happy  play, 

Mid  green  isles  tinged  with  blooming  flowers, 
While  on  your  rippling  waters  float 
The  gallant  ship  and  pleasure  boat. 

When  on  the  ocean  tempest  tost, 

The  storm-spent  bark  seeks  your  retreat  ; 

As  'pears  salvation  to  the  lost, 

So  sailor's  eyes  your  headlands  greet ; 

He  knows  what  shelter  they  maintain 

Where  storms  prolong  their  wrath  in  vain. 

Thou  lovely  gem  from  ocean  grasped, 

Fair  Rhoda's  arms  your  charms  surround  ; 

Thus  to  her  heart  securely  clasped, 

Your  shores  with  sighs  and  kisses  sound  ; 

While  ocean's  breast  doth  constant  beat, 

With  faithful  love  at  your  fair  feet. 


NARRA  GANSE T  BA  Y.  149 

Here  civilization's  potent  sway, 

In  town  and  fort  and  farm  appears, 
While  nature  smiles  o'er  land  and  bay : 

Your  history  the  soul  endears  ; 
What  sea  or  shore  does  this  world  claim, 
That  can  support  a  prouder  fame  ? 

Where  on  the  earth  can  man's  free  mind 

With  purer  exaltation  rise  ? 
For  on  your  shores  was  first  defined 

Religious  freedom's  blessed  prize. 
WThat  other  wave,  with  swelling  tide, 
Can  wash  its  shores  with  equal  pride  ? 

What  brighter  sun  e'er  gemmed  a  wave, 

Or  tinged  a  flow'ret  of  the  vale  ; 
What  purer  air  a  breath  e'er  gave, 

Or  gayly  wafted  cloud,  or  sail ; 
And  where  are  freedom's  laws  more  sure 
With  man  in  future  to  endure  ?, 

Your  charms  attract  the  good  and  proud, 
To  feast  their  souls,  or  senses  please  ; 

Around  your  tides  what  pleasures  crowd 
To  soothe  the  harassed  mind  to  ease  ; 

What  lovely  scenes  your  shores  portray 

Amid  the  windings  of  your  bay ! 

Some  gliding  ship  with  rippling  wake 
At  times  may  call  a  roaming  thought, 

Far  on  the  wave  a  voyage  to  make, 
Until  the  roving  mind  is  caught 

By  river,  village,  grove,  or  farm, 

Again  to  note  some  pleasing  charm. 


1 5 C  NARRA  GANSE  T  BA  Y. 

Here  we  indulge  historic  dreams, 

While  fancy  paints  the  Northman's  bark 

With  dragon  shape ;  and  each  shade  teems 
With  savage  forms  so  wild  and  dark  ; 

Surprised  they  gaze  from  haunts  on  shore 

On  beings  ne'er  conceived  before. 

Perchance  from  Mount  Hope's  regal  hill 
We  gaze  on  ships  and  cities  grand. 

Viewed  from  those  heights  we  note  the  skill 
Which  marks  the  changes  of  the  land  ; 

For  here  the  chieftain's  lodge  once  stood 

Who  ruled  the  red-men  of  the  wood. 

Now  all  the  tribes  he  swayed  are  dead  ; 

No  one  is  left  to  guard  their  graves, 
Or  point  the  grounds  on  which  they  bled, 

Or  show  how  graceful  o'er  the  waves, 
With  paddles  moved  to  warlike  song, 
Their  light  qanoes  could  speed  along. 

Yet  who  regrets  the  mighty  change 
The  last  two  centuries  have  wrought, 

Or  grieves  to  view  the  magic  gains 
Civilization  here  has  brought  ? 

Let  nature  sigh  while  soft  winds  play 

O'er  graves  of  men  of  that  wild  day. 

Though  stern  the  savage  of  your  wilds, 
His  stubborn  soul  could  not  withstand 

The  soothing  force  your  coves  and  isles 
Gave  to  the  beauty  of  your  land  ; 

His  warlike  spirit  half  disarmed, 

So  well  your  lands  and  waters  charmed. 


NARRA GANSE T  BAY,  151 

Yet  while  your  sailors  guide  the  helm, 

Your  ocean  waves  with  awe  inspire, 
As  they  your  beach  and  reefs  o'erwhelm  ; 

Thus  you  create  a  strong  desire 
In  many  hearts,  to  wing  their  way 
Where  nature's  grandeur  holds  the  sway. 

To  crown  with  grace  your  lovely  tide, 

Fair  woman's  charms  your  shores  enchant ; 

View  all  the  works  of  art  and  pride, 
Search  all  the  realms  that  fairies  haunt, 

Then  here  compare  how  far  the  true 

Surpasses  all  art  ever  drew. 

Long  on  your  shores  may  beauty  meet, 
And  festive  halls  its  charms  display  ; 

Let  music  move  its  dancing  feet, 
And  soul-lit  eyes  with  pride  portray 

The  love  which  swells  its  throbbing  breast, 

While  those  who  win  such  love  are  blest. 

Long  may  your  cooling  waters  soothe 
All  those  who  seek  your  summer  wave  ; 

May  ocean  tides  forever  smooth, 
The  sands  where  pleasure  seeks  to  lave  ; 

And  long  the  beat  of  ocean's  heart 

To  bathers  health  and  strength  impart. 

Long  may  your  shores  in  future  call 

The  wealth  and  pride  of  freedom's  race, 

And  inspiration  e'er  extoll 

The  free  souls'  victories  which  grace 

The  lovely  shores  which  fold  your  wave, 

A  fact  the  proudest  land  would  crave. 
At  Sea ',  October,  1859. 


152  DESOLATION  ISLAND. 

DESOLATION    ISLAND. 

BLEAK,  lonely  isle,  mid  rugged  ocean, 
Where  desolation  rules  supreme, 

Sad  dreariness  must  be  thy  portion, 
Where  summer  rays  can  never  beam. 

In  gazing  o'er  grim,  snow-clad  mountains, 
Which  tower  above  your  barren  waste, 

I  long  for  pleasant  groves  and  fountains, 
By  joyous  human  beings  graced. 

O'er  dark,  cold  rocks  the  winds  are  sighing, 
The  billows  surge  with  hollow  groan  ; 

My  cheerfulness  of  soul  is  dying  — 
On  thy  sad  waste  I  am  alone. 

The  dismal  sound  of  sea-fowl  screaming 
Sweeps  shrill  along  each  gloomy  place  ; 

Your  shores  and  steeps  with  terrors  teeming, 
Full  well  become  your  dreary  space. 

Your  beach  resounds  with  monsters'  howling, 
Which  from  the  ocean's  caverns  creep ; 

The  roaring  surf  with  mingled  growling, 
Proclaims  the  dangers  of  the  deep. 

Your  rock-piled  steeps,  so  rough  and  crumbling, 
A  frail  support  for  snow  and  sleet, 

With  crashing  sounds  are  constant  tumbling  ; 
Thus  terror's  reign  is  here  complete. 

A  dismal  throne  of  desolation 

It  seems  you  always  will  maintain  ; 

Far  from  the  rays  of  insolation, 
As  now,  you  ever  must  remain. 


THE  LIFE   OF   TREES.  153 

On  land  so  drear  ,1  long  for  ocean, 

And  out  beyond  the  breakers'  roar, 
I  seek  my  bark,  whose  graceful  motion 

Will  waft  me  to  a  kinder  shore. 

Long  o'er  my  mind  dread  will  be  stealing, 

As  I  recall  your  dreary  coast, 
And  in  my  dreams  this  dismal  feeling 

Will  haunt  me  like  some  gloomy  ghost. 
At  Sea. 


THE   LIFE   OF   TREES. 

O  TIRELESS  trees  !  how  faithfully  you  stand, 
Brave  working  out  your  destinies  on  earth  ! 
How  multiform  your  presence,  near  and  far ! 
With  giant  strength,  or  graceful  pliant  forms, 
You  group  yourselves  with  nature's  easy  grace, 
So  all  the  landscape  glories  in  your  art. 

How  venerable  in  rich  virgin  lands 

You  tower  aloft,  the  oldest  life  on  earth, 

So  all  new  life  seems  grafted  on  your  age  : 

What  lofty  arches  your  tall  columns  raise  — 

Vast  nature's  halls,  where  thought  is  pleased  to  hold 

Communion  with  the  great  Creator's  life ! 

In  sunny  lands,  where  drought  would  make  all  drear, 
How  fearlessly  you  climb  the  mountain  steeps, 
Inviting,  with  your  beauty  and  sweet  voice, 
The  flying  clouds,  who  gladly  seek  repose, 
Where  your  low,  dreamy  tones  lull  them  to  rest  ; 
For  this  they  journey  from  the  distant  seas, 


154  THE  LIFE   OF   TREES. 

And  lavish  on  you  oft  refreshing  showers, 
To  keep  alive  the  springs  within  your  shades  — 
The  source  of  all  the  rivers  on  the  plains, 
Which  you  so  guard  and  nourish  to  the  sea. 

At  times  you  seem  true  nature's  ministers, 

So  faithful  you  observe  each  sacred  calm  ; 

At  morn  or  noon  or  eve,  your  outstretched  arms 

And  silent  mien  extend  impressive,  sweet, 

Deep  benedictions  holy  o'er  the  land. 

When  comes  the  breeze  to  change  your  worshipping, 

How  well  you  show  your  sanctity  of  heart, 

And  harmony  with  nature's  grace  and  tone, 

While  touching  passing  winds  with  tuneful  hands, 

To  play  sweet  symphonies  to  list'ning  ears. 

Yet  you  are  strong  and  passionate  and  brave, 

For  when  aggressive  tempests  threatening  sound, 

And  all  the  elements  seem  mad  for  war, 

We  see  you  gather  all  your  giant  strength, 

And  with  strong,  tireless  arms  brave  fight  the  gale 

To  hold  your  own  against  fierce  sweeping  storms, 

Defending  vegetation's  weaker  life, 

Which  finds  protection  while  you  win  the  field. 

How  beautiful  you  usher  in  the  spring, 
And  hold  her  fragrant  blooms  with  willing  hands, 
Reviving  life  with  joy  and  faith  and  hope  ; 
Thus  in  your  happy  mood  you  playful  hold 
Upon  your  ready  fingers  tuneful  birds, 
To  entertain  us  with  sweet  melodies, 
While  giving  shelter  to  their  helpless  young, 
Safe  in  your  canopies  of  leaves  and  flowers. 

And  when  the  summer  comes  with  burning  heat, 
You  kindly  spread  your  wide-protecting  shades, 


THE  SHIPWRECK.  155 

And  hold  them  o'er  the  land  to  shed  the  glare, 

Safe  guarding  springs  and  rills  from  scorching  drought, 

Embowering  delightful  spots  on  earth, 

Where  love  and  labor  find  a  sweet  retreat. 

And  when  in  autumn  glory  you  appear, 

How  generous  you  reach  to  needy  man 

The  hoarded  treasures  of  a  season's  work, 

Or  toss  them  broadcast  o'er  his  favored  grounds, 

While  stripping  for  your  contest  with  the  storms. 

How  faithful  through  the  winter's  killing  frost, 
You  hold  the  precious  germs  of  nature's  life 
To  grace  the  glory  of  the  coming  year  ; 
Thus  you  go  on  your  grand  evolving  course, 
Forever  working  for  the  good  of  man. 
Then  let  the  mountains  ever  be  your  home, 
And  lofty  hills  rejoice  to  yield  you  strength, 
And  sunny  vales  be  grateful  for  your  shade, 
And  all  the  streams  reflect  your  graceful  forms, 
To  carry  out  on  earth  vast  nature's  laws. 
December  25,  1871. 


THE   SHIPWRECK. 

PART  I. 

THE  old  brig  Neptune  long  was  advertised 
For  sale  or  charter.     Trade  was  rather  slack  ; 

Besides,  the  shippers  somehow  had  surmised 
Her  unseaworthy ;  on  her  last  run  back 

She  sprung  a  leak  ;  it  could  not  be  disguised. 
The  story  was,  while  on  the  starboard  tack, 

A  high  cross  sea  gave  her  some  heavy  thumps  ; 

Good  weather  saved  her  with  Jack  at  the  pumps. 


S&  THE  SHIPWRECK. 

At  length  her  owner,  a  smart  business  man, 
Thought  he  would  send  her  for  a  load  of  coal  ; 

There  was  not  much  to  disappoint  his  plan, 
For  sailors  then  were  plenty  round  the  mole, 

And  those  in  debt  must  go  to  sea  again, 
And  one  landlord  had  twenty  on  his  roll ; 

Our  sailors  are  not  very  well  protected, 

However  much  their  calling  is  respected. 

The  poor  old  brig  was  taken  on  the  ways, 
To  stop  the  leaks  she  started  her  last  run ; 

The  carpenter  was  short  in  his  surveys, 

For  he  soon  saw  enough  that  should  be  done. 

Her  wormy,  rotten  planks  surprised  his  gaze  ; 
He  said  he  could  not  see  by  light  of  sun, 

How  she  had  floated  out  and  into  port ; 

He  told  her  owner  this  in  his  report. 

Her  owner  said  he  could  not  stand  expense, 
So  made  repairs  the  cheapest  way  he  could  ; 

Cement  and  pitch  would  fill  the  holes  and  rents, 
He  only  wanted  her  to  carry  wood  ; 

To  that,  of  course,  the  carpenter  consents. 
He  did  not  care  so  much  how  matters  stood  ; 

He  knew  one  thing :  the  owner  was  a  deacon, 

Who  served  somehow  the  Christian  cause  to  weaken. 

The  owner  was  so  bent  on  getting  rich, 

His  Christian  duties  were  most  sadly  blurred  ; 

For  self  he'd  pray  or  cheat,  he  cared  not  which  ; 
To  honest  folks  this  may  seem  most  absurd. 

While  fear  of  hell,  a  disagreeable  switch, 

Turned  him  from  many  things  his  heart  preferred ; 

For  his  religion  was  not  hate  of  evil, 

But  a  device  contrived  to  cheat  the  devil. 


THE  SHIPWRECK.  157 

We  oft  see  men  of  egotistic  make 

Let  love  of  self  hold  everything  in  sway  ; 

They  praise  the  Lord  for  their  own  selfish  sake, 
While  want  of  love  to  man  their  hearts  betray. 

Their  God,  of  course,  their  selfish  form  must  take, 
To  make  themselves  immortal  their  own  way  ; 

More  than  they  love,  they  hope  the  power  that  made, 

Can  never  cause  their  selfishness  to  fade. 

The  old  brig  soon  was  launched  as  tight  as  new, 
A  coat  of  paint  outside  made  her  look  gay  ; 

She  wanted  then  a  master  and  a  crew, 

Which  could  be  got  with  small  advancing  pay. 

A  state  of  things  not  very  safe,  but  true, 
For  nothing  in  the  world  was  in  the  way 

Of  sending  men  in  such  a  craft  to  sea, 

Because,  you  know,  the  country  was  so  free. 

The  next  day  Captain  Grey  walked  down  the  street, 
A  circumstance  that  serves  to  help  explain  ; 

He  went  down  to  the  wharf,  his  daily  beat, 

While  his  frank,  manly  face  seemed  fraught  with  pain. 

For  there  the  deacon  had  agreed  to  meet 

With  him  to  talk ;  first  broaching  wind  and  rain, 

Their  converse  soon  was  settled  on  the  brig, 

Her  build  and  stowage,  also  on  her  rig. 

The  captain  knew  the  brig  was  very  old, 

He'd  sailed  to  Cuba  in  her  years  ago ; 
Our  merchants  then  were  rather  short  of  gold, 

So  sent  out  all  the  lumber  she  would  stow ; 
Then  loaded  down  with  sugar,  deck  and  hold  ; 

They  lost  the  deck  load  in  a  heavy  blow. 
How  many  deck  loads  greedy  men  have  lost, 
Besides  the  ships  and  lives  such  deck  loads  cost ! 


158  THE  SHIPWRECK. 

The  owner  offered  Grey  a  chance  to  ship ; 

The  captain  craved  employ,  but  felt  afraid  ; 
The  deacon  said  'twould  be  a  pleasant  trip, 

And  never  was  a  master  better  paid. 
And  then  the  captain  felt  the  cruel  nip 

Of  poverty  ;  he'd  lost  by  men  in  trade, 
And  had  a  wife  and  children  to  support, 
But  could  not  do  it  while  he  stayed  in  port. 

So  Grey  was  shipped,  with  neighbor  Jones  for  mate, 
Who  by  the  way  with  poverty  was  gored  ; 

The  brig  got  under  way  with  little  freight, 
Her  crew  was  only  eight  when  all  aboard  ; 

Short  nanded  quite,  say  four  below  her  rate, 
But  still  'twas  all  her  owner  would  afford ; 

Enough,  perhaps,  for  one  particular  reason,  — 

Because  'twas  drawing  near  the  stormy  season. 

The  autumn  weather  wore  a  glorious  charm, 
And  earth  and  sky  gave  every  sense  delight ; 

The  golden,  hazy  sunlight,  steeped  in  calm, 

Showed  hills  and  vales  and  bays  in  dreamy  light. 

Earth's  pleasant  face  allayed  all  thought  of  harm ; 
The  sea  seemed  to  have  lost  its  power  to  smite, 

And  moved  with  gentleness  of  love  to  greet 

Ripe  autumn's  beauty,  and  to  bathe  her  feet. 

Such  weather  proved  delightful  for  a  start. 

The  bay  was  smooth  enough  for  any  boat ; 
Still  mate  and  captain,  tender  men  at  heart, 

Had  choking  grief  fast  sticking  in  their  throat, 
For  both  from  wife  and  children  had  to  part. 

'Twas  bad  enough  for  them  to  be  afloat, 
E'en  if  they  had  a  vessel  staunch  and  sound, 
To  ease  them  of  the  risk  of  being  drowned. 


THE  SHIPWRECK.  159 

The  crew,  as  said  before,  was  rather  light, 

And  those  were  each  a  chip  from  other  nations, 

And  all  were  more  or  less  in  luckless  plight, 
And  went  to  sea  to  pay  for  sprees  and  rations ; 

To  have  such  men  for  sailors  is  not  right, 

But  who  would  like  to  risk  their  good  relations 

On  such  a  craft,  say  in  the  stormy  season  ? 

Such  traps  our  young  men  shun,  and  with  good  reason. 

Our  great  marine,  at  one  time  proud  with  thrift, 

E'en  now  is  mighty  in  its  enterprise, 
But  lately  seems  to  have  a  downward  shift ; 

The  reason  why  the  country  can  surmise  : 
Our  young  men  don't  aspire  to  be  adrift 

On  doubtful  hulks,  in  quarters  they  despise  ; 
Their  parents  rather  see  them  clerks  or  tailors, 
Than  be  exposed  to  wrongs  that  kill  our  sailors. 

Although  quite  late,  it  held  a  pleasant  fall, 
The  weather  was  so  beautiful  and  clear  ; 

The  Neptune  under  sail  looked  fine  and  tall, 
And  all  her  spree-worn  sailors  were  in  cheer. 

They  sailed  to  Delaware  without  a  squall ; 
Safe  up  the  bay  they  went  away  from  fear, 

Discharged  her  notions,  took  in  coal  for  freight  — 

The  brig  was  deep,  so  Grey  said  to  his  mate. 

The  brig  looked  dreadful  deep  to  those  poor  men  ; 

Their  better  judgment  knew  and  well  forbode 
The  risk  they  were  to  run,  but  then  again, 

Want  made  them  bold  to  risk  the  heavy  load  ; 
While  hope  portrayed  fair  weather,  so  that  when 

They  took  another  look,  the  future  showed 
A  better  prospect,  dimming  what  they  feared. 
This,  with  their  late  escape,  the  future  cheered. 


160  THE  SHIPWRECK. 

The  captain  wrote  his  wife,  and  took  a  tug, 
So  that  the  brig  was  soon  outside  the  bay  j 

The  wind  was  north,  so  that  she  had  to  hug 

The  gale  all  night,  her  homeward  course  to  lay  ; 

The  captain  thought  it  best  to  make  all  snug, 
It  blew  so  strong  at  noon  the  second  day ; 

In  fact,  the  weather  grew  to  be  quite  rough, 

But  in  good  ships  they  hardly  thought  it  bluff. 

Like  unsound  vessels  are  some  folks  we  know  : 
While  ease  and  pleasure  reign,  they  seem  all  right, 

They  glide  through  life  and  make  a  pretty  show. 
But  let  disaster  once  their  pleasures  smite, 

Then  see  how  soon  their  pride  is  lying  low  ; 
A  sea  of  trouble  puts  them  in  a  fright. 

The  timbers  of  their  character  are  frail, 

To  stand  the  shock  of  dark  misfortune's  gale. 

The  wind  round  to  the  eastward  slowly  veered, 
And  with  it  came  a  most  unwelcome  swell ; 

'Twas  such  a  gale  as  this  the  captain  feared, 
For  both  pumps  soon  gave  all  the  crew  a  spell. 

A  dreadful  danger  then  to  all  appeared, 
The  water  gained  so  fast  upon  the  well, 

While  boats  were  stoven  by  the  dreadful  waves, 

Which  looked  by  daylight  like  so  many  graves. 

There  was  no  doubt  but  that  the  brig  would  sink, 
She  rolled  so  heavy  in  the  dashing  spray ; 

Each  life  was  hanging  on  a  dreadful  brink, 

And  anxious  grasped  to  what  came  in  the  way. 

They  made  a  raft  of  spars,  a  slender  link, 
Which  served  a  cruel  spell  death  to  delay, 

For,  true  to  nature's  laws,  the  brig  went  down  ; 

Her  crew  clung  to  the  raft,  afraid  to  drown. 


THE  SHIPWRECK.  161 

It  proved  a  fearful  time  for  those  poor  souls, 

On  such  a  sea  for  life  thus  to  depend  ; 
'Tvvas  sad  to  think  an  old  brig  load  of  coals 

Should  bring  strong  men  to  an  untimely  end  ! 
Some  people  think  that  wrecks  are  only  tolls 

Which  commerce  to  the  ocean  has  to  send ; 
But  when  they  come  to  know  the  real  cause, 
They  find  them  fines  for  breaking  nature's  laws. 

There  are  a  hundred  sail  at  sea  to-day, 

On  voyages  as  venturesome  as  this, 
Which  would  not  stand  at  all  a  fair  survey, 

The  crew  of  which  dear  friends  may  sadly  miss. 
This  brings  us  back  again  to  Jones  and  Grey, 

Whose  lives  were  striving  o'er  a  dread  abyss, 
A  punishment  sufficient  for  their  errors, 
Before  exhaustion  robbed  death  of  its  terrors. 

Great  was  the  agony  of  this  poor  crew, 
Dashed  by  the  waves  until  the  time  to  die, 

Life's  pleasures,  home,  and  friends  they  anxious  drew, 
Contrasting  strangely  with  what  met  the  eye  ; 

While  all  the  sweets  of  life  they  ever  knew 
Appeared  to  take  a  leave  they  would  deny. 

The  future  too,  perhaps,  to  some  looked  grim, 

While  hopes  of  life  amid  the  waves  grew  dim. 

The  monstrous  seas  dashed  o'er  their  fearful  drift, 
So  every  sense  was  shocked  by  wind  and  wave, 

While  oft  a  surge  would  give  their  raft  a  lift, 

So  hope  could  glance  from  off  its  frightful  grave, 

For  succor,  sometimes  in  good  fortune's  gift, 
To  sink  again  beyond  the  power  to  save, 

Down  !  down  !  where  terror  struggled  for  a  breath, 

And  every  man  felt  certain  of  his  death. 


1 62  THE  SHIPWRECK. 

The  life  of  man,  which  o'er  all  nature  towers, 
Is  a  sad  thing  when,  cast  down  from  its  sphere, 

Misfortune  gets  advantage  of  its  powers ; 
How  feeble  its  exertions  then  appear  ! 

Weak  through  disaster,  how  its  spirit  cowers ! 
We  feel  astonished  at  its  helpless  fear. 

Life  seems  as  trivial  as  a  flake  of  snow, 

When  touched  by  ocean's  vast,  o'erwhelming  flow. 

Peculiar  things  at  times  control  man's  fate  : 

For  when  the  waves  had  washed  off  all  but  one ; 

A  South  Sea  native  was  left  to  relate, 

In  broken  English,  what  the  storm  had  done. 

He  learned  to  swim  while  in  his  savage  state  ; 
To  play  with  ocean  waves  was  once  his  fun  ; 

He  rode  the  storm  out  safely  on  the  raft, 

And  then  was  rescued  by  a  passing  craft. 

Now  Grey  and  Jones  are  dead,  their  fate  we  mourn ; 

Both  good,  free-hearted  men  as  ever  sailed, 
And  Grey,  with  a  good  ship,  I  would  be  sworn, 

Could  make  a  voyage  all  safe  and  ne'er  have  failed  ; 
But  circumstance  and  sharpers  kept  him  shorn, 

So  skill  in  seamanship  did  not  avail, 
But  served  to  guide  old  hulks  on  venture  trips, 
While  less  skilled  men  were  wrecking  first-class  ships. 

Grey's  seamanship  had  always  been  a  match 

For  all  the  dangers  sailors  ever  dare. 
For  many  years  disaster  could  not  catch 

Him  by  the  board,  because  he  took  good  care 
That  everything  was  right  above  the  hatch  ; 

Yet  his  account  of  storms  would  make  you  stare, 
Such  was  his  management  to  keep  from  wreck, 
While  having  charge  of  some  unworthy  deck. 


THE  SHIPWRECK.  163 

His  life,  in  fact,  was  but  one  long  campaign, 
A  constant  strife  with  nature's  sternest  laws. 

His  country  furnished  him,  through  love  of  gain, 
Old  brigs  and  schooners  to  risk  danger's  jaws. 

The  way  he  fought  and  died  I  here  explain  ; 

His  pressing  wants,  of  course,  gave  him  good  cause  ; 

But  then  the  merchants  have  no  good  excuse, 

To  put  poor  property  to  such  mean  use. 

Like  Grey,  some  think  because  their  aim  is  good, 
That  they  may  trespass  on  the  rules  of  nature  ; 

The  best  of  men  have  oft  misunderstood 
The  laws  of  God  in  this  important  feature. 

They  think  their  cause  when  worthy,  somehow  should 
Act  as  a  shield  to  screen  the  sinning  creature. 

But  nature  makes  no  such  discrimination, 

For  every  sin  meets  with  sure  condemnation. 

As  time  passed  on,  the  brig  was  overdue  ; 

The  deacon  worried  some  about  the  deep. 
He  dreamt  the  brig  had  sunk,  while  in  his  pew ; 

And  for  such  reasons  he  was  feeling  cheap. 
The  mate's  and  captain's  wife  so  anxious  grew 

That  they  no  longer  could  their  trouble  keep ; 
They  called  upon  the  owner  in  their  plight, 
To  know  if  there  was  reason  for  their  fright. 

The  owner  felt  confused  ;  what  could  he  say  ? 

Those  women  looked  so  anxious  in  his  face  ! 
He  talked  of  many  things  that  might  delay, 

For  they,  of  course,  knew  nothing  of  the  case. 
The  owner's  conscience  saw  how  matters  lay ; 

Well,  to  be  just,  he  felt  his  deep  disgrace. 
Had  laws  been  more  efficient,  it  is  plain 
They  might  have  saved  life,  property,  and  pain. 


1 64  THE  SHIPWRECK. 

It  proved  a  sad  time  for  these  sailors'  wives, 
For  each  day  added  to  their  anxious  woe. 

Hope  struggles   hard  when  love  for  hope  contrives, 
Yet  while  time  passed  they  felt  their  trouble  grow, 

Save  when  kind  friendship  planned  to  save  dear  lives. 
Then  came  the  news  they  wished  and  dreaded  so  ; 

And  then  the  conflict  with  o'erwhelming  sorrow, 

While  hope  strove  hard  from  future  strength  to  borrow. 

The  children  grieved,  as  children  often  will, 
Their  mother's  woe  as  much  as  for  the  dead  ; 

They  felt,  of  course  their  father's  death,  but  still, 
Their  mother's  trouble  was  a  greater  dread  ; 

Thus  her  sad  mien  gave  their  young  hearts  a  chill, 
Till  mother's  love  for  them  from  grief  was  led. 

Yes,  strong  affection  led  the  way  from  grief, 

While  love  and  care  and  reason  brought  relief. 

Can  this  be  true  ?  we  hear  good  people  ask ; 

How  can  such  things  be  done  where  laws  exist  ? 
But  selfishness  works  with  a  cunning  mask  ; 

So  every  winter  gale  repeats  its  list 
Of  vessels  missing  ;  none  are  called  to  task  : 

Insurance  officers  at  times  resist, 
But  only  think  of  the  heartrending  cost 
Of  human  life,  besides  the  cargoes  lost ! 


PART  II. 

When  first  commencing  with  this  rhyming  measure 
To  give  a  true,  but  plain,  unvarnished  tale, 

It  was  not  done  for  pastime,  spite,  or  pleasure, 
But  more  to  point  out  wrongs  all  should  assail ; 


THE  SHIPWRECK.  165 

Perhaps  it's  good  to  hav£  so  little  leisure 

We  cannot  wear  out  patience  with  detail, 
So  it  may  worry  through  a  string  of  facts, 
To  prove  disaster  follows  sinful  acts. 

The  South  Sea  native  was  the  only  clue 

Then  left  to  tell  how  sad  the  brig  was  wrecked ; 

Saved  by  the  packet  ship  Aurora's  crew, 
He  serves  his  part  my  story  to  connect. 

On  her  strange  deck  all  hands  around  him  drew, 
For  all  seemed  very  anxious  to  detect 

The  reason  of  his  being  set  afloat, 

So  far  at  sea  without  a  ship  or  boat. 

The  decks,  though  large,  were  also  rather  crowded 

With  emigrants  fresh  out  of  Liverpool, 
The  most  of  whom  with  ignorance  were  shrouded, 

Not  having  the  advantage  of  a  school. 
It  is  astonishing  how  mind  is  clouded, 

While  used  for  an  aristocratic  tool, 
For  those  poor  souls  of  England,  Wales,  and  Cork 
Thought  this  brown  man  a  native  of  New  York. 

It  seems  so  strange  to  common  Yankee  mind 
To  note  the  emigrants  as  they  come  over, 

And  find  their  intellects  so  dull  and  blind, 
Fresh  from  a  land  —  surprising  to  discover  — 

That  boasts  of  brain  by  Providence  designed 
To  be  the  world's  most  scientific  mover ; 

Yet  while  we  Yankees  are  such  things  discerning, 

Are  all  our  children  getting  common  learning. 

The  gaping  crowd,  not  quite  half  civilized, 

Thought  'twas  the  first  sign  of  the  western  land. 

In  fact,  but  few  there  would  have  been  surprised 
To  find  canoes  in  shore,  with  natives  tanned 


1 66  THE  SHIPWRECK. 

E'en  browner  than  the  man  before  their  eyes ; 
Besides,  'twas  hard  for  some  to  understand, 
For  his  and  their  bad  English  made  a  bother, 
While  in  communication  with  each  other. 

So  to  relieve  him  of  an  awkward  scrape, 
The  captain  ordered  him  to  be  sent  aft ; 

The  cabin  passengers  learned  his  escape, 

And  how  his  shipmates  were  washed  from  the  raft ; 

What  things  he  could  not  speak  he  tried  to  ape, 
Which  made  the  women  sad,  and  no  one  laughed, 

Although  he  acted  with  queer  signs  and  breath 

The  struggle  his  lost  shipmates  had  with  death. 

The  ship  Aurora  was  of  Yankee  build, 

As  good  a  craft  as  e'er  was  made  of  wood  ; 

If  swayed  by  one  in  seamanship  well  skilled, 

There  ne'er  was  weather  she  would  not  have  stood. 

But  as  it  was,  the  captain's  berth  was  filled 

By  one  who  did  not  know  some  things  he  should  : 

To  have  such  men  for  captains  is  a  sin, 

But  then,  you  see,  he  was  the  owner's  kin. 

From  boyhood  up  he  ne'er  displayed  good  tact. 

Perhaps  it's  better  not  to  give  his  name  — 
'Twould  not  seem  fair  —  and  then  tell  what  he  lacked 

So  call  him  Rusher ;  then  we  shall  not  shame 
The  pride  of  a  good  family  with  fact ; 

But  for  his  relatives,  he  would  not  claim 
So  large  a  space  in  ordinary  verse, 
To  prove  that  bad  promotions  are  a  curse. 

For  he  was  one  of  those,  so  plenty  now, 
Whose  family  maintained  a  good  position, 

Yet  did  not  feel  as  though  they  could  allow 
Their  son  to  fill  a  real  loafer's  mission  : 


THE  SHIPWRECK.  167 

So  they  were  anxious  to  fix  him  somehow. 

For  that  they  sought  to  give  him  good  tuition, 
But  all  their  plans  to  naught  he  soon  converted, 
For  all  he  undertook  he  soon  deserted. 

Such  worthless  chaps  abound  in  every  city  ; 

What  to  do  for  their  good  their  friends  doth  puzzle  ; 
Corrupt  and  vain,  with  tempers  often  gritty, 

So  their  propensities  are  hard  to  muzzle, 
They  think  that  rowdyism  is  something  witty  ; 

Besides,  with  other  faults,  they  love  to  guzzle. 
Such  traits  in  young  Americans,  at  present, 
To  genteel  folks  are  anything  but  pleasant. 

His  uncle  was  a  merchant  on  the  slip, 

Which  turned  the  young  man's  thoughts  toward  the  sea ; 
Through  this  he  found  himself  on  board  a  ship. 

It  seemed  a  fine  thing  for  him,  so  that  he 
Made  some  advancement  almost  every  trip  ; 

For  his  relationship  was  made  the  key 
Of  his  promotions,  while  much  smarter  men 
Are  common  sailors  now,  as  they  were  then. 

To  tell  the  truth,  he  had  some  traits  aquatic, 
With  other  men  who  have  the  sea  to  plough ; 

Quite  fond  of  dissipation,  and  erratic, 
Oft  seeking  out  lewd  places,  or  a  row : 

In  all  such  scenes  his  actions  were  dramatic. 
His  education  came  in  play  somehow 

To  put  a  garb  on  vice  which  gave  it  zest, 

Or  meanly  used  to  flavor  some  low  jest. 

His  best  acquaintance  knew  his  dissipation, 

Yet  he  was  tolerated  in  his  folly, 
For  no  one  wished  to  seal  his  condemnation  ; 

Twas  queer  the  ladies  deemed  him  only  jolly, 


168  THE  SHIPWRECK. 

And  thought  that  time  would  work  his  reformation  ; 

To  shame  the  devil  seems  quite  melancholy, 
Especially  if  he  has  rich  relations 
To  disconcert  by  making  explanations. 

The  ship  Aurora's  captain,  one  fine  day, 
With  a  full  freight  engaged,  was  taken  ill ; 

'Twas  too  expensive  long  in  port  to  lay, 

Some  one,  of  course,  the  master's  place  must  fill ; 

So  Rusher  was  the  one  to  take  the  sway. 
The  owners  all  distrusted  him,  but  still 

They  gave  him  a  good  mate,  and  parting  toast, 

In  wishing  him  good  pilots  on  the  coast. 

On  that  and  other  trips  he  had  good  luck  ; 

He  made  some  rapid  runs,  which  seemed  all  right, 
Although  he  lost  at  times  his  spars  and  duck  ; 

It  happened  somehow  in  a  squally  night. 
Some  folks  can't  tell  foolhardiness  from  pluck  ; 

Oft  to  such  minds  foolhardiness  seems  bright. 
So  Rusher  went  on  shortening  each  trip, 
While  chance  neglected  his  brave  plans  to  nip. 

We  oft  see  men  of  very  little  sense 

Made  up  somehow  of  busy,  vigorous  action  ; 

They  push  things  through,  regardless  of  expense, 
And  never  dream  their  plans  need  circumspection 

From  such  as  those  the  public  need  defense, 
Whenever  fortune  gives  them  the  direction  ; 

For  they  oft  get  promoted  for  some  deed 

Done  while  more  prudent  persons  had  the  lead. 

Our  merchants  had  an  eagerness  for  clippers  — 

All  very  well  if  not  too  overdone  ; 
But  soon  it  got  to  be  the  fault  of  shippers 

To  discard  safety  for  a  rapid  run  : 


THE  SHIPWRECK.  169 

Which  soon  raised  up  a  reckless  class  of  skippers,  — 

But  profit  in  the  end  they  seldom  won. 
The  sure  and  slower  foreigner  now  boasts 
Of  carrying  the  produce  of  our  coasts. 

We  Yankees  are  so  fond  of  being  fast, 
We  sacrifice  ofttimes  more  than  we  gain  ; 

This  serves  as  much  as  anything  to  blast 
The  prospects  of  our  business  on  the  main. 

We  drive  too  hard  to  make  ships  pay  and  last ; 
This,  with  our  war  and  rashness,  helps  explain 

Why  foreigners,  though  cautious,  slow,  and  late, 

Still  in  the  long  run  succeed  well  with  freight. 

All  who  can  cipher  or  are  good  at  guessing 
Well  know  the  pressure  of  an  extra  mile  ; 

To  gain  that  mile  our  efforts  are  distressing, 
For  which  we  strain  our  canvas  all  the  while ; 

Great  accidents  occur  which  prove  no  blessing, 
While  sending  friends  to  an  ill-timed  exile. 

Some  people  think  they  rather  have  less  haste, 

Than  let  their  lives  and  wealth  thus  go  to  waste. 

This  makes  me  think  of  what  newspapers  say, 
How  rushing  plans  our  toiling  men  are  worsting ; 

A  horrid  state  of  things  our  times  betray, 

Just  through  a  lot  of  o'erstrained  boilers  bursting, 

Whose  dire  explosions  oft  the  people  slay, 
Enough  to  gratify  all  horror  thirsting  ; 

Yet  we  go  on  still  adding  to  our  sin, 

And  keep  the  devil  on  a  constant  grin. 

The  next  day,  after  all  had  been  debating 
The  South  Sea  Islander's  escape  from  harm, 

The  wind  went  down,  a  wretched  thing  for  freighting, 
Until  it  got  to  be  a  perfect  calm. 


17°  THE  SHIPWRECK. 

Things  that  delay,  a  sailor  can't  help  hating, 

Although  there's  nothing  in  them  to  alarm  ; 
So  calms  at  sea  are  far  more  disconcerting 
Than  gales  of  wind  where  life  is  more  uncertain. 

The  great  ship  tossed  and  staggered  on  the  ocean, 
O'er  rolling  waves  so  huge  and  brightly  glassed, 

Which  gave  the  deck  a  most  uneasy  motion  ; 

The  sails  seemed  mad,  and  fiercely  beat  the  mast 

So  everything  that  moved  was  in  commotion, 
While  every  soul  on  board  was  clinging  fast. 

The  tiresome  rolling,  and  the  wear  and  tear, 

Made  grumbling  sailors  much  inclined  to  swear. 

The  glassy  waves  had  tumbled  them  for  hours, 
When  lo  !  there  'peared  a  blackness  in  the  east ; 

Dark,  double-headed  clouds  displayed  their  powers, 
Which  made  all  hands  mistrust  a  change,  at  least. 

For  soon  the  wind  came  booming  swift  in  showers, 
Until  into  a  storm  it  had  increased, 

So  that  the  ship,  with  strong  gales  on  her  quarter, 

Made  dashing  headway  o'er  the  raging  water. 

The  captain,  always  brave  to  carry  sail, 
The  passengers  had  fastened  down  below, 

So  high  the  waves  dashed  o'er  the  ship's  main  rail ; 
It  made  the  sailors  stare  to  see  her  go 

Full  fifteen  miles  an  hour  before  the  gale ! 

While  everything  was  strong  to  stand  the  blow, 

The  captain  thought  he'd  boast  this  to  the  owners, 

But  fate  at  times  robs  fools  of  many  honors. 

This  gaining  time  now  makes  me  think  of  Maury 
In  his  grand  theory  of  circle  sailing  : 

A  rushing  captain  tried  it  in  a  hurry ; 

A  grand  west  wind  and  swell  he  found  prevailing, 


THE  SHIPWRECK.  I7I 

But  his  fast  run  soon  ended  in  a  flurry, 

A  loss  of  time  and  danger  both  entailing ; 
He  struck  an  iceberg  at  the  dead  of  night, 
Which  gave  himself  and  passengers  affright. 

Their  good  strong  ship  received  a  dreadful  thumping  ; 

'Twas  up  somewhere  in  the  Antarctic  Ocean  : 
The  passengers  for  life  worked  hard  at  pumping, 

And  cursed  Professor  Maury  and  his  notion 
To  save  a  little  time.     They  found  that  jumping 

Through  iceberg  seas,  amid  such  wild  commotion, 
Was  anything  but  saving  in  their  case  — 
They  lost  three  months  to  gain  a  week  in  space. 

This  makes  us  think  of  ships  on  the  Atlantic, 
Who  strive  so  hard  to  make  their  voyages  brief : 

They  shave  the  northern  bergs  which  loom  gigantic, 
Which  is  a  sin  that  slowly  gains  belief. 

To  save  time  by  such  routes  seems  almost  frantic, 
While  some  are  really  so  because  of  grief, 

Whose  friends  for  pleasure  sought  to  cross  the  wave, 

But  in  their  hurry  found  an  ocean  grave. 

The  night  came  on,  with  darkness  most  opaque ; 

Still  the  Aurora  flew  before  the  swell : 
Her  light  was  set  and  lookouts  all  awake, 

While  mid  the  roar  they  rang  the  warning  bell ; 
Old  seamen  knew  that  life  was  put  at  stake, 

For  midnight  heard  the  crash  and  stifled  yell 
Of  some  poor  fated  coaster,  lying  to  ; 
Her  name,  and  what  her  fate,  no  one  e'er  knew. 

The  morning  came  with  gales  more  rough  and  thick, 
The  passengers  still  fastened  under  hatches 

The  want  of  air  had  made  them  all  so  sick, 

They  would  have  died,  had  not  one  of  the  watches 


172  THE  SHIPWRECK. 

Heard  some  one  thumping  •   'twas  a  lucky  nick, 

Because  it  saved  the  lives  of  the  poor  wretches 
From  going  out  in  a  most  painful  smother, 
For  a  short  time,  to  undergo  another. 

The  captain  somehow,  in  his  careless  haste, 
Had  overrun  his  reckoning  through  the  log  ; 

Besides,  it  seems  he  did  not  mean  to  waste 
A  strong,  fair  wind,  because  of  rain  and  fog  ; 

For  caution  with  him  ne'er  had  a  firm  place, 
Especially  when  will  gave  him  a  jog. 

The  night  came  on ;  he  did  not  stop  to  sound,  — 

At  three  o'clock  the  ship  was  hard  aground ! 

Aground  with  such  a  surf,  in  a  dark  night, 
Was  dangerous  to  life  in  the  extreme  ! 

The  shock  at  first  gave  every  soul  affright. 

A  mountain  wave  soon  boarded  them  abeam  ; 

Another  came  with  such  o'erwhelming  might 
It  fairly  drowned  the  shrill,  heart-rending  scream 

That  issued  from  five  hundred  wretched  souls, 

And  proved  how  fearful  death  to  life  unrolls. 

The  work  of  death  was  done  in  one  short  hour, 
All  overwhelmed  by  heavy  breakers  dashing. 

The  waves  on  that  dire  night  had  deadly  power, 
The  great,  strong  ship  soon  into  pieces  smashing. 

The  white  foam  flew,  a  swift  and  ghastly  shower, 
While  overhead  the  thunder  storm  was  flashing, 

To  show  dire  horror  to  the  strong  and  brave, 

While  they  were  striving  precious  life  to  save. 

The  South  Sea  Islander,  of  all  the  crew, 

Was  the  best  fitted  to  withstand  the  danger ; 

His  coral  island  teaching  took  him  through, 
For  he  had  been  in  surf  a  perfect  ranger. 


THE  SHIPWRECK.  173 

He  backed  the  strongest  wave  that  shoreward  flew, 
And  proved  that  he  of  all  was  there  no  stranger ; 
He  bravely  rode  the  breaker  safe  to  land, 
And  waited  for  the  daylight  on  the  sand. 

The  morning  came,  while  horror  reigned  complete  ; 

The  stubborn  strand  shook  in  the  dreadful  fray, 
So  fearfully  the  solid  shores  were  beat : 

In  drifting  flakes  the  combers  threw  their  spray, 
While  each  white  roller  formed  a  winding-sheet 

For  such  drowned  dead  as  in  its  hollows  lay. 
Sublimity  and  danger  both  were  rife 
In  that  grand  work  of  elemental  strife. 

The  shipwrecked  native  gazed  on  that  dire  strand, 

The  sole  survivor  of  a  sad  mishap  ; 
He  knew  not  much  what  civilization  planned, 

But  thought  it  served  for  a  most  deadly  trap 
Which  all  his  native  skill  could  barely  stand ; 

Still  nature  held  him  yet  safe  in  her  lap, 
The  sad  survivor  of  a  foolish  notion 
That  favoritism  could  succeed  with  ocean. 

Our  native  thought  of  California  lines 

He'd  sailed  with  Rushers,  while  on  the  Pacific, 

Where  with  ship-loads  of  men  fresh  from  the  mines, 
They  steered  a  course  for  danger  most  prolific. 

It's  hard  to  tell  what  are  a  fool's  designs, 

Who  hugs  a  shore  where  breakers  roll  terrific ; 

When  wide,  deep  seas  invite  a  safer  course, 

Yet  runs  his  ship  ashore  with  dreadful  force. 

Oft  nature  doth  the  rule  of  fools  impeach  ; 

This  to  the  dull  is  frequently  a  wonder. 
If  such  at  times  could  be  upon  the  beach 

And  see  the  dire  results  of  stupid  blunder, 


i?4  THE  SHIPWRECK:. 

They'd  know  one  lesson  nature  has  to  teach  ; 

For  she  has  laws  for  men  to  labor  under  : 
No  matter  in  what  cause  those  laws  we  break, 
A  certain  justice  follows  to  o'ertake. 

The  sin  of  favoritism  let  us  spurn, 
With  other  sins  so  common  to  our  race  ; 

In  war  or  trade,  and  all  that  gives  concern 
To  wealthy  pride,  its  evils  we  can  trace  ; 

All  feel  how  bad  the  nation's  fingers  burn, 

Through  raising  fools  and  knaves  to  some  high  place 

But  while  the  public  at  such  sin  connives, 

We  lose  —  God  knows  how  many  precious  lives  ! 


PART  III. 

THESE  last  concluding  verses  form  a  jumble 
Made  up  of  accidents  by  sea  and  land  ; 

Yet  as  a  people  we've  no  right  to  grumble, 
Because  we  do  not  feel  to  lend  a  hand 

To  stay  the  dangers  into  which  we  stumble, 

While  striving  to  do  something  smart  or  grand  ; 

We  all  know  well,  upon  mature  reflection, 

The  cause  of  our  disasters  needs  inspection. 

The  ship  Aurora  had  been  wrecked  a  week, 

And  all  the  dead  that  washed  ashore  were  buried, 

WThile  our  poor  native  had  begun  to  seek 

Some  place  on  earth  where  he  should  be  less  worried 

His  pagan  thoughts  of  course  he  did  not  speak, 
Still,  through  his  late  disasters  he  was  flurried  ; 

In  fact,  he  really  wished  himself  at  home, 

On  some  lone  isle,  far  out  on  ocean's  foam. 


THE  SHIPWRECK.  175 

To  shape  his  homeward  plans,  he  took  a  boat, 
In  hopes  of  rest  and  safety  on  his  way ; 

But  while  he  steamed  along  so  fast  afloat, 
In  gilded  cabins  got  up  for  display, 

His  better  judgment  went  to  taking  note, 

For  hard  luck  made  him  thoughtful  more  than  gay. 

A  fear  came  o'er  him  while  he  looked  about, 

So  his  much-needed  rest  was  put  to  rout. 

A  life-preserver  hung  so  near  his  berth, 
It  turned  his  thoughts  on  fire,  or  a  collision ; 

He  knew  he'd  just  have  time  to  make  its  girth, 
Should  fire  or  water  there  lead  death's  division, 

Both  able  agents  to  take  him  from  earth, 

For  which  sad  plan  he  saw  so  much  provision ; 

The  gilded  cabins  seemed  a  tinder  box, 

More  dreadful  than  a  sunken  reef  of  rocks. 

At  length,  exhausted,  he  fell  in  a  doze ; 

A  wooden  steamboat  burning  lit  his  dream, 
Then  in  his  ears  a  frightful  yell  arose, 

Suggested  by  the  loud  steam-whistle's  scream  : 
Then  for  awhile  he  gained  a  brief  repose, 

In  which  his  fancy  followed  an  extreme  ; 
He  dreamt  he'd  gained  a  place  safe  to  rely  on, 
Where  all  the  boats  that  steamed  were  built  of  iron. 

His  iron  boat  was  built  on  such  a  plan, 
That  danger  from  collision  was  controlled  ; 

How  safe  and  swiftly  o'er  the  waves  she  ran, 
With  water-tight  compartments  in  her  hold  ! 

There  was  naught  in  her  build  the  eye  could  scan, 
For  fire  to  feed  on  ;  so  all  hearts  were  bold, 

For  should  her  bows  or  stern  be  knocked  away, 

She  still  would  safely  float  on  sea  or  bay. 


176  THE  SHIPWRECK. 

It  was  a  happy  dream,  and  passing  rare, 
Because  he  felt  such  pleasure  to  be  gliding 

On  Yankee  waves,  with  so  few  things  to  scare, 
While  every  one  was  feeling  so  confiding. 

No  mortal  ever  sailed  so  free  from  care, 
O'er  western  waters,  as  he  then  was  riding. 

But  when  he  woke  and  found  his  true  condition, 

He  felt  like  one  in  danger  of  perdition. 

The  noise  that  woke  him  proved  a  dreadful  crash  1 
A  passing  sail  had  struck  them  on  the  quarter  ! 

It  was,  in  fact,  a  most  unlucky  smash, 

Because  the  boat  would  soon  be  under  water  ; 

Besides  the  fires  had  caught  the  wooden  trash, 
So  all  was  working  for  a  dreadful  slaughter  ; 

The  passengers  were  fairly  panic-stricken, 

So  dire  death's  agencies  began  to  thicken. 

Our  gilded  cabins,  with  their  sumptuous  fare, 
Yield  to  their  passengers  a  poor  content  ; 

Their  minds  are  full  of  grim  and  anxious  care, 
While  they  are  on  our  splendid  steamers  pent; 

Sound  an  alarm,  and  all  are  in  despair, 

Where  all  is  cocked  and  primed  for  accident. 

While  custom  holds  to  dangers  so  satanic, 

So  long  the  people  will  give  way  to  panic. 

Our  South  Sea  Islander  again  was  caught : 
He  took  this  boat  to  join  a  ship  for  whaling  ; 

He  saw  so  much  of  death  and  horror  wrought, 
While  he  was  in  the  merchant  service  sailing, 

He  made  his  mind  up  never  to  be  bought 

For  such  poor  pay,  where  death  was  so  prevailing. 

But  civilized  life  again  put  him  to  pain, 

Before  he  could  his  savage  home  regain. 


THE  SHIPWRECK.  177 

We  will  not  tell  how  many  there  were  drowned ; 

Old  stories  are  not  very  entertaining, 
So  many  later  accidents  astound 

Our  country  every  month,  the  public  maiming. 
Again  the  South  Sea  Islander  has  found 

His  life  depended  on  aquatic  training, 
A  lucky  thing,  because  it  gave  a  chance 
For  him  to  tell  his  iron  steamboat  trance. 

How  many  travellers  have  dreamt  or  thought 
Of  safer  modes  of  transit,  scores  of  times  ! 

But  custom  sets  our  better  plans  at  naught,  — 
A  cruel  tyrant  always  working  crimes, 

Yet  to  strict  justice  never  can  be  brought, 
Although  it  meets  exposure  oft  in  rhymes  ; 

While  man  thinks  safety  is  not  worth  its  cost, 

Both  life  and  wealth  are  certain  to  be  lost. 

When  we  once  get  a  boat  on  some  great  line, 
A  life-boat,  safe  from  burning  and  from  sinking, 

And  when  the  people  this  great  treasure  find, 

We'll  see  them  from  old  dangers  gladly  shrinking. 

For  safety  has  such  comfort  for  the  mind, 

She'd  get  their  patronage,  as  sure  as  thinking ; 

If  steamboat  owners  add  this  while  they  figure, 

They'll  find  their  dividends  a  good  deal  bigger. 

Our  South  Sea  Islander,  so  skilled  and  brave, 
From  cruel  death  again  has  had  reprieve : 

We  left  him  last  contending  with  the  wave, 

Where  he  new  feats  by  swimming  must  achieve. 

The  steamboat  left  him  o'er  a  watery  grave, 
While  on  his  way  enlightened  life  to  leave  ; 

Our  civilization  worked  him  so  much  evil, 

He  feared  its  workings  as  he  did  the  devil. 
12 


8  THE  SHIPWRECK. 

He  reached  the  shore  upon  some  broken  spars ; 

No  passage  hence  by  water  could  be  found, 
So  he  to  gain  his  ship  must  take  the  cars,  — 

It  seemed  more  safe  to  be  on  solid  ground. 
But  then  an  accident  our  story  mars  : 

The  life  that  death  had  tried  so  long  to  drown, 
He  took  upon  the  rail  the  first  attack, 
Which  shows  his  plans  are  best  laid  on  the  track. 

Death  had  his  traps  so  well  set  on  the  shore, 
Our  native's  skill  proved  of  but  little  use. 

An  ill-timed  train  full  tilt  upon  him  bore, 

For  which  sad  deed  there  was  a  poor  excuse  ; 

While  death  made  great  additions  to  his  score, 
The  public  mind  connived  at  the  abuse, 

And  thought  perhaps  a  public  sacrifice 

Of  human  blood  would  make  the  future  wise. 

For  our  poor  native  let  us  drop  a  tear, 

A  victim  of  our  so-called  civilization, 
Its  working  ever  gave  him  deadly  fear, 

And  only  serves  to  rhyme  an  explanation 
How  the  foolhardy  run  their  mad  career ; 

Although  such  facts  are  a  bad  consolation 
To  the  poor  sufferers  we  constant  render 
For  human  sacrifice  with  so  much  splendor. 

Whoever  travels  on  our  iron  rails 

Well  knows  the  danger  of  our  wooden  coaches  ; 
Whenever  accident  a  crash  entails, 

With  wooden  weapons  death  makes  dire  approaches. 
His  victims  oft  with  splinters  he  impales, 

Or  with  a  wood-fire,  on  our  life  encroaches  ; 
We  see  such  things  enacted  every  winter, 
Though  all  know  iron  will  not  burn  or  splinter. 


THE  SHIPWRECK.  1 79 

The  sins  of  builders  we  oft  realize, 

E'en  when  they  work  with  a  regard  to  savings  ; 
Our  cars,  hotels,  and  boats  so  please  the  eyes, 

They  seem  to  satisfy  our  present  cravings  ; 
But  in  them  all  a  dreadful  danger  lies, 

For  they  will  burn  just  like  a  pile  of  shavings. 
How  many  cities  must  we  lose,  to  learn 
The  simple  fact  that  seasoned  wood  will  burn  ! 

It  is  but  lately  we  learn  from  the  press, 

A  fire-proof  play-house  has  been  built  in  Florence, 

While  here  our  builders  have  been  put  to  stress, 
To  get  a  doorway  with  a  breadth  that  warrants 

A  panic-stricken  audience  egress, 

From  wooden  playtraps  all  hold  in  abhorrence. 

A  fire-proof  house  would  give  such  safe  delight  ; 

It  would  not  need  wide  avenues  for  flight. 

An  iron  age  of  safety  on  us  peers  ; 

It's  working  now  'gainst  custom  and  expense,  — 
Two  sorry  evils  causing  many  tears, 

The  last  a  lie,  the  first  a  lack  of  sense, 
Which  once  passed  by  all  look  back  to  with  sneers, 

While  no  one  cares  to  argue  their  defense  ; 
It's  hard  to  judge  how  custom  rules  to-day, 
For  want  of  stand-point  to  make  our  survey. 

Our  wooden  fabrics  must  give  way  ere  long, 
For  our  wide  forests  are  fast  disappearing  ; 

So  this  privation  may  correct  a  wrong 
Which  now  with  life  is  sadly  interfering. 

The  iron  age  that's  coming,  safe  and  strong, 

Is  one  good  sign  the  future  shows  that's  cheering, 

To  recompense  the  loss  of  our  grand  woods, 

Which  temper  seasons,  and  keep  back  the  floods. 


l8o  YANKEE   DOODLE. 

But  while  our  custom  works  for  fire  and  wrecks, 
And  waits  for  fate  to  make  us  more  secure,  — 

A  state  of  things  which  on  our  sense  reflects, 
Besides  the  tax  on  those  who  now  insure,  — 

We  need  this  trite  old  adage  for  our  text : 

An  ounce  preventive  is  worth  pounds  of  cure. 

Once  let  the  people  this  grand  truth  conceive, 

We'll  have  less  cause  from  accidents  to  grieve. 


YANKEE   DOODLE. 

WE  Yankee  folks  are  mighty  smart, 
We  beat  the  world  for  working, 

And  when  we  trade  among  ourselves 
Are  shrewd  as  foxes  lurking. 

And  then  what  genius  we  possess 

To  get  up  new  inventions  ; 
We  beat  the  world  in  this  respect ; 

God  bless  our  good  intentions ! 

But  we  have  faults  like  other  folks, 
Which  keep  us  all  unquiet ; 

The  grand  one  is  extravagance, 
It's  no  use  to  deny  it. 

Our  wealth  runs  from  us  just  as  free 

As  Mississippi  water ; 
Adown  whose  stream  gay  fashion  floats 

Until  the  shoals  have  caught  her. 


YANKEE  DOODLE.  l8l 

The  Old  World  says  that  all  our  strife 

Is  just  to  hoard  up  dollars  ; 
A  bigger  lie  yet  ne'er  was  told 

By  their  calumnious  scholars. 

If  dollars  only  were  our  aim, 

Should  we  not  all  grow  wealthy  ? 
But  spending  free  for  foreign  trash 

Is  sad  besides  unhealthy. 

The  plain  fact  is,  we  toil  and  scheme  « 

To  pay  the  importation 
Of  gewgaw  cargoes  from  abroad, 

Too  many  for  relation. 

Our  dear  home  lands  we  sweat  to  death, 

As  well  as  our  soul  cases, 
In  raising  cargoes  of  produce 

To  swap  for  silks  and  laces. 

How  soon  the  gold  our  miners  dig 

Is  shipped  o'er  the  Atlantic  ! 
With  every  dollar  we  can  get,  — 

A  drain  that  seems  gigantic. 

Thus  we  poor  Yankees  work  like  slaves, 

Exhausting  lands  and  talents, 
Just  to  support  a  foolish  pride, 

And  shopping  bills  to  balance. 

The  most  our  foreign  commerce  does  — 

It  seems  a  thousand  pities  — 
Is  to  exhaust  our  lands  and  cash, 

And  build  consuming  cities. 


182  YANKEE  DOODLE. 

The  merchants  suck  our  country's  veins 
Like  thirsty  foreign  leeches, 

And  then  disgorge  to  other  lands,  — 
Is  what  experience  teaches. 

And  what  returns  do  we  all  get 

To  pay  us  for  our  bleeding, 
But  gaudy  goods  to  trick  out  pride, 

Our  spendthrift  vices  feeding  ? 

How  can  we  prodigals  expect 
To  take  good  heartfelt  pleasure, 

While  we  exhaust  land,  strength,  and  time, 
And  squander  all  our  treasure  ! 

If  we  keep  buying  foreign  trash 

To  rig  out  silly  bodies, 
And  fill  our  homes  with  anxious  strife, 

It  seems  we  must  be  noddies. 

Why  should  good,  honest,  Christian  folks 
Seek  comfort  in  such  striving  ; 

Just  for  the  sake  of  empty  show, 
To  always  be  contriving ! 

Our  women  —  bless  their  winning  charms  ! 

Who  occupy  high  places, 
Now  lead  the  people  with  their  pride 

On  most  unhappy  races. 

Of  course  the  people  will  look  up 

To  those  in  higher  station, 
To  set  examples  for  the  world 

While  on  their  brief  probation. 


YANKEE  DOODLE.  183 

This  makes  high-  life  responsible 

For  every  poor  relation  ; 
On  whose  examples  much  depends 

Society's  salvation. 

Then  let  the  leaders  of  our  modes 

Set  up  some  tasty  standard, 
So  to  relieve  both  high  and  low 

From  wasting  wealth  now  squandered. 

We  need  dress  suited  for  our  times, 

Artistic,  plain,  and  winning ; 
Which  rich  and  poor  could  always  wear, 

And  keep  the  good  from  sinning. 

What  time  and  labor  it  would  save, 

To  be  so  well  protected 
That  good  folks,  in  their  well  kept  suits, 

Could  feel  safe  and  respected  ! 

To  do  this  thing  we  all  depend 

Upon  our  wealthy  women  ; 
How  easy  they  could  matters  mend 

By  being  just  in  trimming. 

But  as  it  is,  false  fashions  lead ; 

What  foolish  shapes  they  borrow, 
Extravagance  and  vice  to  breed, 

And  fill  our  homes  with  sorrow  ! 

Then  let  us  all  have  higher  aims 

Than  living  slaves  to  fashion  ; 
Health,  comfort,  riches  then  will  come, 

In  place  of  foolish  passion. 


1 84  YANKEE  DOODLE. 

We  seem  like  folks  with  lands  entailed, 
Besides  an  income  summing, 

But  squander  all,  exhausting  land, 
And  cheat  the  heir  that's  coming. 

Our  fathers  did  not  live  so  mean  ; 

They  taught  us  self-denial ; 
They  took  pride  in  their  country's  good, 

Though  fraught  with  pain  and  trial. 

They  gained  this  virgin  land  for  us 
By  hardship,  toil,  and  fighting, 

And  told  us  how  to  govern  it,  — 
What  task  was  more  inviting. 

Instead  of  taking  their  advice, 
We  quarrel  with  each  other, 

While  all  the  world  is  cheating  us, 
And  foolish  fashions  bother. 

For  justice  and  for  liberty 
We  are  brave  and  patriotic, 

But  slow  to  keep  our  country's  wealth, 
Like  nations  more  despotic. 

O  let  us  all  our  home  land  love, 
And  husband  its  resources, 

So  our  descendants  for  all  time 
Can  praise  our  honest  courses. 
October,  1860. 


OUR  LIVING   WORLD.  185 


OUR   LIVING  WORLD. 

How  grand  appears  the  life  of  our  great  world, 

With  all  its  gain  in  intellectual  strength  ! 

Although  in  mind  apparently  in  youth, 

What  mighty  changes  have  swept  o'er  its  face  ! 

Have  not  the  oceans  rolled  o'er  all  the  lands  ? 

Were  not  the  deep  seas  once  vast  continents  ? 

Have  not  all  parts  of  earth  been  icy  poles, 

And  then  again  been  warmed  with  torrid  heat  ? 

Is  there  a  drop  of  water  in  the  sea 

So  deep  it  may  not  catch  a  gleam  of  light, 

That  hath  not  been,  and  yet  will  go  again, 

On  wonder-working  and  life-giving  rounds  ? 

Will  it  not  yet  float  in  the  atmosphere, 

And  serve  to  form  the  brilliant  soaring  clouds, 

Or  robe  the  tempest  with  dire  threat'ning  shapes  ? 

Will  it  not  yet  refresh  the  fragrant  rose, 

And  form  the  juices  of  earth's  richest  fruits, 

And  course  the  veins  of  many  human  forms,  — 

As  it  hath  done  in  prehistoric  times, 

Which  gave  crude  life  to  men  who  knew  no  God, 

Or  thought  of  future  happiness  or  woe ; 

Who  first  displayed  their  human  tact  and  skill 

In  shaping  wood  and  stone  to  cruel  forms 

To  kill  their  neighbors,  so  that  they  might  feast 

Like  some  wild  beasts  upon  their  kindred  blood : 

Dark  early  times,  before  man's  selfishness 

Had  thought  to  hide  his  dead  in  secret  graves, 

Or  massive  tombs,  from  renovating  life ! 

Yet  all  the  dead  strewn  broadcast  o'er  the  land, 

Or  in  the  caverns  of  the  deepest  seas, 

Will  have  their  resurrection  in  good  time, 

And  live  again  a  round  of  wondrous  life. 

How  much  of  thought  to-day  has  been  the  work 


1 86  IMMORTALITY  OF  CHANGE. 

Of  brains  long  years  ago  ?  yet  so  improved 
In  modern  garb  and  style,  'twould  scarcely  seem 
To  fit  the  early  cause  that  gave  it  birth. 
Then  who  shall  fear  that  souls  will  not  be  saved, 
Without  regard  to  selfish  schemes  and  plans  ? 
Has  not  each  ancient  text  been  magnified, 
Instead  of  dwarfed,  to  suit  the  present  hour  ? 
Have  we  not  now  the  sum  of  all  mankind, 
Their  learning,  arts,  economy,  and  thrift, 
Through  all  the  ages  they  have  lived  and  died ; 
And  has  not  science  now  commenced  to  turn 
The  leaves  of  nature's  book,  to  read  the  past, 
And  forged  the  keys  of  earth's  vast  treasure  house, 
And  found  the  rich  deposits  time  has  made 
Of  light  and  heat,  and  wealth  as  yet  untold  ? 
Have  not  the  elements  been  made  to  work 
Like  able  servants  for  the  good  of  man  ? 
Is  not  intelligence  e'er  gaining  strength, 
Thus  making  earth  appear  a  living  form, 
While  telegraphic  nerves  are  being  strung 
Through  all  far-reaching  lands,  and  spreading  seas, 
So  all  the  world  responds  to  ruling  thought  ? 
Then  let  us  trust,  with  pleasing  confidence, 
The  great  Creator's  power  that  shapes  all  things, 
Who  gave  us  life  to  form  a  certain  part 
Of  the  grand  whole  of  our  great  living  world  ; 


IMMORTALITY   OF   CHANGE. 

THE  life  of  matter  always  was  ; 

There's  nothing  mortal  on  the  earth. 
The  life  that  moves  us  proves  a  force 

That  works  an  everlasting  birth. 


IMMORTALITY  OF  CHANGE.  187 

To  mind  how  wonderful  it  is 

That  life  has  such  an  endless  range ; 

To  know  our  substance  undergoes, 
Here  on  the  earth,  a  constant  change  ! 

Our  essence  has  been,  from  all  time, 

Alive  in  nature's  common  cause  ; 
And  now  in  human  shape  it  forms 

The  masterpiece  of  nature's  laws. 

Thus  every  earthly  form  that  lives, 

Is  wedded  to  a  thinking  soul, 
To  form  the  sum  of  one  grand  life, 

Spread  o'er  the  earth  from  pole  to  pole. 

The  mind  is  lost  in  tracing  out 

What  once  our  bodies  here  have  been  ; 

There's  not  a  life  in  this  wide  world 
With  which  we  are  not  all  akin. 

So  while  we  live  in  human  form, 

Each  thought  and  breath  a  change  doth  show 
Our  senses  are  but  notes  of  change  ; 

There's  change  in  everything  we  know. 

In  all  the  future  of  the  world, 

Our  bodies  naught  to  death  can  give. 

The  mortal  is  immortal  still, 

Through  constant  change  it  still  will  live. 

Why  should  we  seek  within  the  grave, 

To  contemplate  a  resting-place  ? 
For  every  thoughtful  mind  must  know, 

It's  but  a  change  in  life's  long  race. 


1 88  IMMORTALITY  OF  CHANGE. 

Both  land  and  sea  have  given  up 
Ten  thousand  generations  dead  ; 

This  constant  resurrection  proves 

That  life  has  naught  from  death  to  dread. 

The  sun,  and  moon,  and  all  the  stars 

On  endless  life  forever  shine  ; 
Death  is  no  victor  over  life, 

The  grave  can  never  be  his  shrine. 

Our  substance,  given  to  the  breeze, 
All  o'er  the  world  new  life  revives  ; 

Thus  mind  and  body  will  go  on, 
The  common  stock  of  future  lives. 

A  birth  is  only  age  restored. 

The  thoughts  we  grow  cannot  escape ; 
Mind  grows  with  life,  from  age  to  age, 

While  generations  give  it  shape. 

Thoughts  live  in  truths  that  cannot  die, 
And  gain  in  strength  while  they  survive ; 

With  death  the  triumph  does  not  lie, 
For  earth's  best  blood  is  e'er  alive. 

Our  mystic  spirit  called  the  soul, 

Which  carries  mind  through  time  and  space, 
Goes  back  to  join  the  powers  that  gave, 

In  hope  to  fill  a  higher  place. 

This  hope  is  sound,  for  all  we  see 

Is  part  of  an  eternal  course, 
So  that  we  feel  the  soul  must  be 

A  portion  of  an  endless  force. 


THE    TOILER.  189 

And  when  it  leaves  our  changing  world, 

Will  all  not  go  on  changing  still  ? 
Imagination  ne'er  can  draw 

The  situations  it  may  fill. 
1866. 


THE   TOILER. 

FOR  years  he's  floated  on  life's  deep, 
And  stemmed  its  tide  with  heavy  oars  ; 

A  weary  time  he's  had  to  keep 

His  boat  in  sight  of  hopeful  shores. 

He  has  on  board  a  precious  freight, 
Depending  on  his  anxious  toil ; 

His  health  and  strength  decides  their  fate, 
For  down  the  stream  the  rapids  boil. 

The  dangers  down  stream  look  so  dread, 
He  cannot  slack  his  tiring  stroke, 

No  wealth  has  he  in  sails  to  spread, 
So  he  must  bear  life's  heavy  yoke. 

Fain  would  he  rest  his  weary  task, 
To  note  the  pleasures  of  the  stream, 

And  in  the  sunlight  careless  bask, 
Or  view  the  sunny  ripples'  gleam. 

But  he  is  doomed  to  constant  toil, 
While  riches  glide  with  sunny  sails  \ 

They  seem  to  have  no  weary  moil, 
But  waft  along  with  pleasant  gales. 


OUR  SHIP  OF  STATE. 

To  him  they  seem  a  happy  crew, 
With  plenty  in  a  world  of  ease, 

As  glad  as  fancy  ever  drew,  — 
The  fairest  vision  labor  sees. 

Yet  his  poor  crew  must  watch  the  tide, 
To  see  how  well  he  meets  its  force, 

While  wealth  and  pleasure  onward  glide, 
And  careless  view  his  anxious  course. 

At  times  they  note  his  toiling  way, 
And  mark  the  distance  he  may  hold  ; 

So  wealth  glides  on  to  rest  or  play, 
Comparing  human  toil  to  gold. 
December,  1870. 


OUR   SHIP  OF   STATE. 

THE  great  ship  of  state  our  fathers  constructed 

Was  deemed  the  best  model  that  mankind  had  known 

Her  builders,  'twas  thought,  were  rightly  conducted 
By  all  the  best  moulders  the  Old  World  had  shown. 

On  time's  stormy  sea  majestic  she  floated  ; 

New,  lofty,  and  strong  to  the  world  she  appeared. 
Commanded  by  minds  to  freedom  devoted, 

For  years  o'er  the  ocean  she  gallantly  steered. 

With  hopes  of  the  free  her  huge  hulk  was  freighted, 
But  still  there  embarked  at  her  launch,  with  her  crew, 

Poor  bondsmen  to  serve  for  people  related 
To  tyrants  who  ever  to  evil  are  true. 


OUR  SHIP  OF  STATE.  19 1 

She  spread  out  her  sails  and  drew  admiration, 

While  wafting  a  cargo  of  value  untold, 
But  still  to  annoy  each  administration 

The  stench  from  her  bondsmen  arose  from  her  hold. 

To  freedom  and  right  the  nuisance  grew  nauseous, 
But  slaveholders  ever  would  hold  to  their  claim  ; 

Besides,  her  commanders,  timid  and  cautious, 

On  builders  and  freighters  would  cast  all  the  blame. 

Her  slave-holding  crew  soon  lost  all  devotion 
For  liberty's  flag,  waving  mast-head  so  long, 

For  freedom,  they  saw,  grew  strong  for  promotion, 
And  freedom  they  knew  had  a  hate  for  the  wrong. 

Now  freedom  had  long  neglected  the  steering, 
The  sea  was  so  gentle,  and  distant  the  sands ; 

But  still  all  the  while  vast  dangers  were  nearing, 
Her  course  being  guided  by  mutinous  hands. 

With  discontent  rife  they  steered  for  the  breakers ; 

The  reefs  of  secession  were  close  by  the  lee ; 
In  mutinous  sin  were  many  partakers, 

But  still  not  sufficient  to  shipwreck  the  free. 

For  when  the  dire  waves  came  roaring  and  frowning, 
We  rushed  to  the  steerage,  the  dear  craft  to  save  ; 

We  tacked  the  good  ship,  and  saved  all  from  drowning, 
Her  flag  waving  high  for  the  free  and  the  brave. 

But  O  !  what  a  strife,  what  deadly  commotion, 
Our  freedom  contested  her  steerage  to  sway ! 

The  mutineers  fought  with  hellish  devotion, 

So  long  they  had  managed  to  have  their  own  way. 


I92  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN. 

Her  decks  were  all  gore  with  the  blood  of  the  nation ; 

O'er  time's  rugged  ocean  her  wake  followed  red  ; 
Thus  patriot  arms  have  worked  out  probation, 

Yet  millions  of  hearts  now  are  mourning  the  dead. 

Our  ship  holds  her  course,  each  danger  abating ; 

Each  mutinous  army  our  warriors  have  broke. 
Her  state-rooms  are  cleansed  by  free  ventilating, 

Each  slave-deck  is  fumed  by  war's  sulphurous  smoke. 

While  kingdoms  with  hate  and  envy  were  burning, 
And  petting  the  pirates  that  lurked  in  her  wake, 

Dependence  on  none  our  freedom  was  learning  ; 
No  tyrants  or  traitors  her  bulwarks  could  shake. 

Our  great  ship  of  state  is  saved  from  destruction  : 

Praise  God  for  the  pilots  who  steered  us  through  harm ! 

Praise  God  for  the  brave  and  the  true,  our  protection  ! 
May  we  ne'er  again  have  such  cause  for  alarm. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN. 

THE  people  chose  this  humble,  honest  name 
To  lead  the  nation  in  its  trying  hour ; 

What  traits  had  he  such  dignity  to  claim,  — 
The  highest  yet  attained  through  human  power  ? 

The  country  had  its  thousands  such  as  he, 
Men  known  for  principle  in  upright  ways  ; 

Still  he  was  called  a  fit  man  for  the  free, 
To  lead  them  through  rebellion's  fearful  days. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN.  193 

He  had  a  manly  feefing,  cheerful  heart, 
And  wish  to  do  the  right  to  all  mankind  ; 

This  made  him  strong  to  carry  on  his  part, 
And  do  the  heavy  task  to  him  assigned. 

He  bore  a  weary  load  ;  the  people  saw 

The  pressing  weight  which  they  had  on  him  lain  ; 

The  strong  support  of  constituted  law 

Was  seen  to  fail,  yet  he  did  not  complain, 

But  firmly  stood  beneath  rebellion's  weight, 
With  mournful  heart,  yet  with  a  cheerful  face  : 

His  Christian  soul  ne'er  knew  what  'twas  to  hate, 
Through  all  his  strife  to  free  a  weaker  race. 

The  people,  worried  by  the  bloody  war, 

Looked  to  their  chief  to  see  'twas  not  in  vain ; 

So  staunch  and  true  he  proved  to  freedom's  law, 
They  willing  filled  his  call  for  each  campaign. 

His  brave  yet  careful  soul  gave  freedom  force  ; 

A  strong  man  at  the  helm,  with  skill  to  steer, 
By  truth  and  justice  he  so  shaped  his  course, 

The  wise  soon  saw  success  in  his  career. 

The  people  learned  to  love  their  toiling  chief, 
His  quaint  advice,  and  wit,  and  patient  cheer  : 

And  when  they  saw  he  felt  their  heavy  grief, 
With  them  he  stood  alone,  without  a  peer. 

Rebellion  and  its  friends  were  filled  with  dread, 
While  to  the  contest  freedom  onward  rushed. 

Their  doom  was  sealed  if  prudence  further  led  ; 
He  held  his  place,  and  evil  hopes  were  crushed. 
13 


194  THE  SUSPICIONS  OF  SCIENCE. 

Good,  honest  man,  his  mighty  task  is  done. 

He  crossed  war's  raging  gulf  to  meet  his  death  ; 
A  victor  just,  with  malice  towards  none, 

For  human  rights  he  yielded  up  his  breath. 

A  flood  of  grief  o'erwhelmed  the  nation's  heart 
E'en  mid  the  buoyancy  of  victories  gained, 

It  was  so  hard  from  the  good  chief  to  part, 
Such  hold  of  minds  his  virtues  had  obtained. 

Thus  mad  rebellion  sealed  its  wicked  cause 
With  murder  foul  as  evil  minds  could  plan  ; 

It  stains  the  hands  of  all  who  broke  the  laws, 
To  overthrow  the  liberties  of  man. 

Though  murder  brought  his  body  to  the  tomb, 
What  name  on  earth  is  now  so  much  alive  ? 

His  lustrous  fame  no  time  will  ever  gloom  ; 
His  name,  with  freedom,  ever  will  survive ! 
May,  1865. 


THE  SUSPICIONS  OF  SCIENCE. 

IT  has  been  suspected  by  science  of  late, 
That  man  long  ago  was  an  ape  in  formation  ; 

In  truth,  it  has  proved  it  so  oft  in  debate, 

We  all  know  of  something  to  show  such  relation. 

While  science  is  reading  the  leaves  of  earth's  book, 
Which  holds  the  strange  secrets  of  much  we  inherit 

We  grow  more  astonished  the  longer  we  look, 
For  nature,  though  tardy/works  faster  than  spirit 


THE    YANKEE  SOLDIER.  195 

For  nature  has  worked  man  up  now  to  a  place, 

We  doubt  with  some  reason  the  guesses  of  science ; 

But  when  to  his  mental  condition  we  face, 

The  new  apish  doctrine  soon  gains  more  reliance. 

To  customs  and  fashions  how  many  are  apes ! 

What  tails  we  yet  draggle  of  old  superstitions ! 
Yea !  minds  wearing  bodies  of  beautiful  shapes 

Still  carry  the  tails  of  old  fabled  traditions. 

Let  science  continue  exploring  God's  page, 
And  read  us  such  facts  his  finger  has  printed  ; 

Let  reason  and  knowledge  and  truth  be  our  gauge, 
So  not  in  old  teachings  to  be  always  stinted. 
December,  1869. 


THE  YANKEE    SOLDIER. 
TAKEN  FROM  LIFE. 

I  AM  a  native  Yankee  born, 
So  proud  of  my  great  nation, 

The  kingdoms  of  the  world  I  scorn, 
With  all  their  rank  and  station. 

I  grew  up  to  the  nation's  tune 
Of  Yankee  Doodle  Dandy, 

All  tyranny  fast  to  impugn, 
And  every  wrong  to  bandy. 

Our  independence  made  me  proud  ; 

Each  Fourth  of  July  training, 
A  brave  oration  cheered  the  crowd, 

Our  rights  and  strength  explaining. 


196  THE    YANKEE  SOLDIER. 

Those  themes  I  heard  in  uniform, 
Which  fired  my  Yankee  spirit  ; 

Despotic  power  I  fain  would  storm, 
Its  lords  to  disinherit. 

To  hear  loud  Yankee  Doodle's  strain 

I  went  to  yearly  muster, 
Beneath  the  Yankee  flag  to  train,  — 

Its  stars  a  glorious  cluster. 

Its  stars,  I  loved  them  one  and  all, 
A  glorious  symbol,  showing 

A  band  of  States  both  great  and  small, 
In  power  and  numbers  growing. 

Yes,  growing  so  surprising  fast, 
The  world's  despotic  powers, 

With  apprehensions  look  aghast,  — 
Each  old  dynasty  cowers. 

My  love  of  country  made  me  hate 

Secession  and  its  raving, 
Which  would,  for  pelf  and  sway  of  state, 

Make  freedom  less  than  slaving. 

O,  what  contempt  I  had  for  minds 
Not  large  enough  for  loving 

Each  foot  of  ground  within  our  lines, 
All  local  rule  disproving  ! 

And  when  I  saw  the  southern  rim 
Of  our  grand  constellation 

With  slavery  was  growing  dim, 
It  pained  my  contemplation. 


THE    YANKEE  SOLDIER.  197 

On  this  encroaching  tempest  cloud 

I  gazed  with  angry  wonder, 
For  liberty  it  vain  would  shroud, 

Charged  with  its  rebel  thunder. 

But  still  I  felt  the  North  was  true, 

And  rebels  full  of  bluster  ; 
No  "  norther  "  o'er  the  South  e'er  blew, 

So  strong  as  we  could  muster. 

So  I  looked  on  quite  entertained, 

While  deadly  war  was  brewing  ; 
I  somehow  thought  'twas  partly  feigned, 

Its  real  fact  eschewing. 

But  when  on  Sumter's  walls  they  dealt 

The  madness  so  long  making, 
Like  an  electric  shock  I  felt 

My  warring  spirit  waking. 

Each  Yankee  heart  was  all  aglow ! 

Excitement  was  amazing  ! 
To  give  our  feelings  lofty  show, 

We  had  a  grand  flag  raising. 

'Twas  then  I  'listed  to  go  South 

To  fight  for  our  great  nation  ; 
I  fain  would  face  the  cannon's  mouth 

For  liberty's  salvation. 

But  when  I  donned  the  nation's  blue, 

It  seemed  I  must  be  going 
To  some  state  muster  or  review, 

With  martial  pleasure  glowing. 


I98  THE    YANKEE  SOLDIER. 

To  camp  I  went  with  pride  and  zest, 
But  still  it  hurt  my  feelings 

To  part  from  mother  and  the  rest, 
For  love  made  strong  revealings. 

But  Yankee  Doodle's  lively  song 
Soon  roused  my  martial  courage, 

So  fast  we  went  o'er  railroads  long, 
We  could  not  stop  to  forage. 

But  when  I  gained  the  rebel  soil, 
New  things  I  soon  detected  ; 

Amid  the  army's  huge  turmoil, 
I  met  things  unexpected. 

The  vast  array  of  Yankee  strength, 
In  numbers  so  appalling, 

Brought  down  my  local  pride  a  length, 
With  egotism  sprawling. 

I  found  a  hundred  thousand  men, 

With  officers  so  plenty, 
Our  colonels  counting  hundreds,  when 

Our  generals  were  twenty. 

And  what  was  I  among  the  crowd, 
With  no  marks  on  my  shoulder  ? 

If  Yankee  might  still  made  me  proud, 
I  was  a  meek  beholder. 

I  found  'twas  not  all  show  and  play,  — 
The  land  was  hot  and  dusty  ; 

And  with  the  toil  of  soldier  life 
I  soon  grew  tanned  and  rusty. 


THE    YANKEE  SOLDIER.  199 

Besides,  the  fighting  did  not  seem 

So  grand  as  fancy  wrought  it ; 
A  soldier's  life  was  not  the  dream 

My  muster  days  had  thought  it. 

War  proved  the  very  worst  of  work, 
*In  march  and  trench  so  wearing ; 
On  picket  duty  death  would  lurk, 
From  every  cover  staring. 

But  still  I  was  in  honor  bound 

To  serve  the  time  enlisted  ; 
I  took  a  cool  look  at  the  ground, 

And  all  weak  thoughts  resisted. 

Yes,  I  must  stay,  and  brave  it  through ; 

No  man  could  act  the  coward  ; 
Our  homes  would  scorn  us  if  not  true, 

Or  if  by  foes  o'erpowered. 

I  thought,  What  if  the  rebels  win, 

All  hope  and  pride  erasing  ! 
What  Yankee  could  survive  the  sin, 

Of  such  a  foul  disgracing  ! 

So  I  fought  through  each  hard  campaign, 

Bore  wounds  in  prisons  hideous, 
Yet  did  not  feel  I  could  complain 

Of  war,  so  long  and  tedious. 

For  I  had  learned  to  comprehend 

A  mighty  game  was  playing  ; 
The  rights  of  man  I  saw  depend 

On  fighting,  more  than  praying. 


200  THE    YANKEE  SOLDIER. 

So  like  all  Yankees  bound  to  win, 

I  business  made  of  fighting, 
And  in  my  toiling,  patient  way 

Fought  on,  the  rebels  smiting. 

And  when  my  first  call  was  served  out 

Again  I  reenlisted, 
To  win  the  cause  so  bravely  fought, 

By  evil  long  resisted. 

And  win  I  did,  through  toil  and  blood, 
Though  comrades  loved  now  moulder 

From  wounds  and  sickness  brave  withstood, 
While  honors  grace  my  shoulder. 

Those  honors  do  not  seem  so  fine 
As  those  at  war's  beginning  ; 

I've  seen  too  much  to  sadden  me, 
To  glory  much  in  winning. 

But  when  I  think  how  sin  relied 
On  this  dark,  bloody  quarrel, 

And  freedom  all  its  strength  defied, 
And  bore  away  the  laurel ; 

Then  my  heart  feels  an  honest  glow, 

The  dear  old  flag  is  waving 
O'er  every  State  where  free  men  died, 

Our  glorious  country  saving. 
1866. 


OUR  MARINE  SERVICE.  2OI 


OUR   MARINE   SERVICE. 

A  GENERATION  back,  I  ween, 
We  felt  more  pride  in  our  marine 

Than  rules  to-day  ; 

The  school  that  trained  bold  Farragut, 
And  many  other  sailors  true, 

Seems  less  to  sway. 

Shall  States  now  grown  so  large  and  grand 
To  hold  an  ocean  with  each  hand 

Lose  their  old  pride  ? 
Is  now  our  country's  heart  in  shore 
So  far,  its  skill  shall  strive  no  more 

To  rule  the  tide  ? 

Do  all  who  boast  of  what  was  done 
To  keep  our  nation's  glory  one, 

Well  realize 

The  real  worth  of  our  blockade, 
An  effort  grand  as  e'er  was  made 

For  freedom's  prize  ? 

Our  fleets,  that  once  all  oceans  coursed, 
And  from  their  depths  a  living  forced, 

Are  they  in  health  ? 

The  heavy  freights  our  ships  once  brought, 
Has  not  the  foreigner  now  sought, 

To  gain  our  wealth  ? 

May  our  young  men,  like  those  of  yore, 
Brave  ocean  fleets  launch  from  the  shore 

And  hold  the  place 
Their  fathers  worthily  obtained  ; 
A  prouder  fame  men  ne'er  yet  gained, 

Their  times  to  grace. 


202  GENIUS  COMPARED    TO  A   STAR. 

SONNETS. 
THE   STRENGTH   OF  TRUTH. 

Do  not  forget  what  Milton  wisely  said, 

That  truth  in  strength  is  next  Almighty  God. 
This  being  so,  shall  we  discussion  dread, 

Though  every  creed  is  doomed  upon  the  sod  ? 
Shall  truth  fear  arguments  by  error  led, 

And  like  weak  superstition  fearful  plod, 
Or  skulk  in  ambush,  or  with  walls  hedge  in  ? 

No,  truth  unfearing  moves  by  different  laws  ; 
Fair  play  is  all  it  needs  its  way  to  win. 

Then  let  us  know  the  soundness  of  our  cause 
In  open  combat  with  all  kinds  of  sin, 

And  test  the  wisdom  of  all  human  saws. 
Let  truth  and  error  battle  face  to  face, 
So  truth  can  win  salvation  for  our  race. 


GENIUS   COMPARED   TO  A   STAR. 

LIKE  a  fixed  star  is  genius  in  its  sphere, 

Forever  shining  with  its  own  strong  light ; 
Yet  minds,  like  planets,  may  revolve  more  near 

With  their  reflecting  rays,  and  to  the  sight 
Of  those  within  their  system  often  seem 

To  be  as  bright  as  real  suns  appear, 
Who  in  their  lofty  distance  brilliant  gleam 

In  space,  beyond  the  borrowed  lights  that  cheer. 
Yet  all  deriving  lights  are  easy  known  ; 

For  while  the  world  moves  on  among  the  stars, 
They  change  position,  altitude,  and  tone  ; 

Though  many  may  be  fiery  as  Mars, 
Yet  without  self-sustaining,  constant  signs, 
However  bright  they  seem,  are  borrowed  minds. 

January,  1864. 


OCTOBER.  203 

RETROSPECTION. 

IN  working  life's  rough,  tedious  journey  through, 

We  oft  look  back  from  some  fatiguing  hill 
Where  all  the  toiling  past  is  brought  in  view  ; 

What  trying  things  our  anxious  eyes  now  fill ! 
We  see  the  lucky  paths  we  might  have  took, 

Which  lead  to  ease  or  honor,  wealth  or  fame,  — 
The  very  ones  our  early  faith  forsook  : 

While  this  we  trod  is  toiling,  mean,  or  tame. 
If  we  were  led  on  this  disheartening  road 

By  the  allurements  evil  always  shows, 
Well  may  we  feel  our  life  a  heavy  load, 

Which  more  and  more  oppressive  to  us  grows. 
But  if  we've  followed  what  we  thought  was  right, 
Good  conscience  serves  to  make  our  burdens  light. 

January,  1867. 


OCTOBER. 

O  GLORIOUS  month  !  the  proudest  of  the  year, 

The  consummation  of  a  season's  strife, 
In  bright  and  solemn  grandeur  you  appear 

To  crown  the  full  success  of  nature's  life  ! 
Your  gorgeous  mantle  robes  each  forest  hill, 

And  valleys  smile  beneath  your  hazy  skies  ; 
Your  lakes  and  streams  now  show  their  magic  skill, 

Reflecting  beauty  to  enchanted  eyes. 
But  O  how  brief  are  all  our  glories  here, 

For  death  is  working  with  a  busy  hand 
To  undo  all  that  serves  to  give  us  cheer, 

Soon  ending  all  by  man  or  nature  planned  ! 
But  still  you  are  a  power,  however  brief, 
Which  screens  at  present  all  our  future  grief. 

October,  1867. 


2  04  APPRECIA  T1ON. 

NOVEMBER. 

NOVEMBER'S  dreary  landscape  now  is  here, 

And  cold  winds  sighing,  with  heart-glooming  sound, 
Their  requiem  o'er  summer's  brief  career, 

While  dead  leaves  strew  the  bleak,  deserted  ground. 
The  chilling  blast,  and  nature's  dismal  gloom, 

Drive  back  the  mind  within  its  own  resource, 
To  live  upon  such  stores  we've  garnered  home, 

Which  yields  the  heart  a  sad  or  cheerful  force. 
And  so  it  is  upon  life's  changing  stage  : 

Should  all  our  prime  be  spent  in  foolish  joys, 
How  poor  will  be  our  lot  when  comes  old  age 

With  nothing  harvested  but  worthless  toys ! 
Then  let  us  treasure  virtues  for  the  heart, 
To  give  us  cheer  when  fleeting  joys  depart. 

November,  1869. 


APPRECIATION. 

O  JUST  appreciation,  God's  best  gift, 

Which  holds  the  deepest  passions  of  the  soul, 
And  causes  strong  ability  to  lift 

Its  mind  above  mean  things  life  to  unfold  ! 
Without  its  presence  genius  scarce  would  rise, 

An  actor  on  life's  elevated  stage  ; 
It  probes  the  depths  where  silent  virtue  lies, 

And  notes  the  thoroughness  of  nature's  gauge 
It  forms  the  atmosphere  of  most  we  love, 

The  breath  of  friendship,  poetry,  and  art ; 
It  holds  the  space  below,  and  space  above, 

Of  all  the  workings  of  the  human  heart : 
The  greatest  talent  granted  under  heaven, 
The  only  fit  reward  to  merit  given. 


GOOD    THOUGHTS.  205 

SELFISHNESS   OF  SOUL. 

How  inconsistent  oft  appears  the  creed, 

That  naught  but  man  shall  live  beyond  the  grave  ! 
Too  much  on  this  the  love  of  self  doth  feed, 

While  animals,  affectionate  and  brave, 
And  nature's  bloom,  so  fitted  to  refine,  — 

All  such  pure  life  it  easily  doth  waive, 
Engrossing  with  its  selfishness  the  line 

Of  endless  future.     Is  naught  else  fit  to  save  ? 
Why  should  a  life  of  eager  selfishness, 

Without  one  seeming  good,  unbiased  trait, 
Claim  immortality  ?    Can  justice  guess, 

And  leave  good  instincts  to  a  short-lived  fate  ? 
If  nature's  blooms  and  faithful  instincts  perish, 
Why  should  ignoble  life  a  future  cherish  ? 


GOOD   THOUGHTS   THE  JEWELS   OF  LIFE. 

THE  life  of  man  appears  a  magic  string, 

Where  thoughts  like  beads  are  every  moment  caught, 
To  mark  the  values  of  its  earthly  ring, 

And  show  how  great  or  mean  the  soul  has  wrought. 
In  early  years  we  file  our  childish  joys, 

Until  our  stronger  manhood,  growing  wise, 
Craves  prouder  jewels  than  life's  simple  toys, 

To  show  the  world's  appreciating  eyes. 
So,  when  the  round  of  life  is  made  complete, 

It's  well  to  show  a  centre  piece  of  worth, 
To  taper  off  with  age  all  fit  to  meet 

The  simple  joys  which  first  began  at  birth. 
For  every  soul  in  future  may  be  bound 
To  wear  the  symbols  of  its  earthly  round. 
September,  1870. 


206  THE   CRUELTY  OF  NECESSITY. 

THE  UNION   OF  MIND  WITH   NATURE. 

OFT  when  alone  with  wilderness  or  deep 

We  mingle  with  the  universe,  and  feel 
Ourselves  the  intellect  of  earth's  great  sweep, 

How  grand  the  life  this  transfer  doth  reveal. 
Our  world's  a  body  then,  possessed  of  mind, 

Which  notes  the  compass  of  its  skyey  sphere, 
And  speculates  on  all  that's  brought  to  bind 

Its  many  parts,  to  form  its  grand  career. 
Then  all  the  lives  of  nature  take  their  part ; 

All  vegetation,  animals,  and  seas 
Work  in  their  unison  to  one  great  heart,  — 

A  vast,  harmonious  whole,  where  each  agrees 
To  fill  its  portion  of  a  wondrous  life,  — 
Fit  for  the  round  of  an  eternal  strife. 

May,  1871. 


THE  CRUELTY   OF  NECESSITY. 

O  STERN  necessity  !  what  cruel  power 

You  exercise  against  the  life  of  man  ! 
How  many  conquered  souls  before  you  cower ; 

With  what  persistency  you  crush  each  plan  ! 
It's  hard  to  have  our  tenement  of  clay 

Besieged  by  such  relentless,  cruel  force  ! 
Our  minds  are  starved  by  your  consuming  sway, 

And  lives  cut  off  from  every  rich  resource  ; 
Our  time  is  taxed  by  a  continued  war, 

So  that  our  souls  to  poverty  are  doomed. 
E'en  genius  cannot  always  break  your  law  ; 

To  such  as  those  there  is  a  double  gloom, 
Because  they  know  so  much  they  could  enjoy, 
Did  you  not  constant  give  them  mean  employ. 

June,  1864. 


A    WINTER'S  DAY.  207 

THE  VOYAGE   OF  LIFE. 

ON  our  eventful  voyage  of  human  life, 

We  have  with  us  a  large  and  motley  crew  ; 
All  navigators  on  a  sea  of  strife, 

And  all  in  hopes  to  see  the  whole  voyage  through. 
But  while  we  labor  on,  what  change  is  wrought ! 

The  old  and  able  hands  soon  find  their  port, 
And  leave  to  us  the  charge  of  toil  and  thought, 

While  younger  voyagers  constantly  report. 
With  such  we  sail  life's  sea  so  swiftly  on, 

The  young  soon  gaining  all  our  strength  and  skill, 
Because  the  log  is  left  of  all  that's  gone, 

And  older  hands  are  teaching  with  a  will. 
So  may  our  journals  prove  a  fit  resource, 
To  help  the  future  shape  its  onward  course. 
February,  1864. 


A   WINTER'S   DAY. 

O  WINTER,  how  magnificent  you  show, 

To  grace  the  morning  of  this  favored  day  ! 
Adorned  in  robes  of  dazzling  white,  you  glow 

Beneath  the  sky  with  wonderful  display, 
While  in  the  slanting  sunlight  forest  hills, 

Like  waves  of  diamonds,  shine  with  splendid  glare. 
So  pure  and  clear  the  atmosphere,  it  fills 

My  body  with  delight  to  breathe  the  air  ! 
My  breath  floats  from  me  like  a  silver  cloud, 

The  only  thing  that  moves  amid  the  clear. 
Who  calls  earth's  mantle  now  a  dismal  shroud  ? 

It's  more  the  bridal  robes  of  the  new  year, 
Which  must  be  wedded  to  the  barren  earth, 
To  consummate  in  time  spring's  joyous  birth. 
January  12,  1865. 


208  THE   CONSERVATIVE  MIND. 


THE   SEASONS. 

TIME,  on  its  silent  march  from  year  to  year, 

Would  scarce  impress,  with  its  monotony, 
Did  not  the  seasons  in  its  train  appear, 

And  give  its  journey  their  variety. 
First  infant  spring,  in  scanty  robes  arrayed, 

With  tears  and  smiles  soon  our  affection  gains : 
Then  summer  lovely  as  a  bridal  maid, 

With  rich  attire  and  fragrant  breath,  obtains 
Our  admiration  till  her  beauties  fade  : 

Then  autumn,  like  a  mother  rich  in  gold, 
With  lavish  bounty  swells  our  gratitude  : 

Then  winter  comes,  like  age  so  stiff  and  cold  ; 
Upon  the  dying  year  he  doth  intrude 

With  snowy  shrouds,  dead  nature's  corpse  to  fold, 
April,  1857.     Equator,  Long.  35°  W. 


THE   CONSERVATIVE   MIND. 

How  strange  it  seems  to  minds  by  nature  free, 

To  see  men  bound  to  the  sheer  circumstance 
Of  early  teaching  !  whatsoe'er  it  be, 

Beyond  its  range  they  never  can  advance  ; 
However  learned,  they  yet  are  copies  still; 

To  previous  accident  forever  bound, 
They  work  a  life-time,  with  ingenious  will, 

To  strengthen  more  the  walls  which  hedge  them  round. 
Mohammedan,  or  Greek,  or  other  creed, 

No  matter  where  their  fortunes  have  been  cast, 
On  that  same  graz ing-ground  their  souls  must  feed. 

Thus  walled  and  hampered  ever  by  the  past 
They  have  no  stand-point  out  of  their  old  grounds, 
To  see  what  truth  there  is  outside  their  bounds. 


THE  SHADES   OF  DEATH.  209 

THE  FIRST  THOUGHT  OFT  BETRAYS. 

THE  night  was  calm  and  earthly  objects  dim, 

And  life  seemed  resting  from  the  things  that  tire, 
When  lo  !  above  the  horizon's  dark  rim 

A  light  burst  forth  !  I  first  thought  it  was  fire ; 
But  as  it  rose  above  the  distant  hill, 

It  proved  to  be  the  moon,  to  give  me  cheer, 
Instead  of  fire,  which  first  gave  me  a  thrill 

Through  the  impulsion  of  a  sudden  fear. 
And  so  it  seems  when  new  reforms  arise, 

With  shapes  at  first  alarming  to  the  mind  ; 
But  soon  they  prove  so  gentle  to  our  eyes, 

We  feel  ashamed  we  ever  were  so  blind. 
Let  us  have  care ;  the  first  thought  oft  betrays, 
And  makes  us  fear  things  that  should  win  our  praise. 


THE   SHADES   OF  DEATH. 

THE  shades  of  death  all  loving  souls  make  sad ; 

For  then  the  windows  of  our  senses  blind, 
Through  which  we  know  all  things  that  make  life  glad, 

And  all  the  light  we  have  to  grow  our  mind. 
The  brightest  hope  of  heaven  in  the  soul 

Can  only  recompense  the  dread  of  death  ; 
And  most  that  wish  to  win  that  happy  goal 

Would  still  like  to  retain  their  mortal  breath. 
And  why  ?    Because  in  that  all  yielding  throw 

We  risk  each  pleasing  sense  which  we  now  own  ; 
We  dread  to  change  for  what  we  do  not  know, 

For  often  we  have  not  for  heaven  sown  ; 
If  so,  with  our  great  loss  of  all  that's  here, 
It  is  not  strange  we  have  regret  and  fear. 


210  INCONGR  UITY. 


THE   WORTH   OF  SORROW. 

OUR  sorrows  cloud  our  minds  like  heavy  rain  ; 

In  gloomy  storms  upon  our  lives  they  fall ; 
Our  bright  and  happy  days  seem  lived  in  vain, 

While  those  dark  tempests  our  gay  lives  appall. 
Though  heavy  grief  sinks  down  into  the  heart, 

Still  our  affections  deeper  growth  obtain  — 
A  growth  our  pleasant  days  could  never  start, 

Or  even- in  our  joyful  moments  feign. 
Thus  sorrow  is  to  man  of  real  worth  ; 

It  gives  to  us  a  deep  and  firmer  hold 
Of  friendship's  soil,  and  rears  on  earth 

A  love  and  trust  and  tenderness  untold, 
Whose  strong  roots  are  deep  feeling,  while  it  drowns 
The  heartless  pleasures  of  life's  trifling  rounds. 


INCONGRUITY. 

'TWAS  on  a  pleasant  early  April  day, 

When  streams  were  running  full  of  melted  snow  ; 
Upon  the  lea  where  sunshine  gained  the  sway, 

I  saw  a  butterfly  resplendent  glow, 
Apparent  seeking  for  the  flowers  of  May  : 

But  all  in  vain  it  wandered  to  and  fro  ; 
Its  brilliant  wings  flew  o'er  a  dreary  way, 

For  not  a  flower  to  rest  its  flight  would  show. 
It  made  me  think  of  minds  above  their  sphere, 

Whose  poor  surroundings  seldom  please  their  taste. 
Their  world  is  poorly  fitted  for  their  cheer, 

So  that  their  brilliant  souls  oft  seem  misplaced. 
They  seek  congeniality  in  vain, 
While  worthy  longings  keep  their  lives  in  pain. 


POETRY.  21 J 


LIFE   AND   MIND. 

MAN'S  life  is  spun  a  fine  and  brittle  thread, 

Sharp  pointed  by  that  subtle  needle,  mind, 
While  in  its  way  a  world  of  thoughts  are  led  ; 

Yet  quite  too  oft  it  proves  to  pierce  them  blind  : 
Then  what  a  sorry  string  for  life  they  seem  ! 

And  then  again,  with  seeming  happy  care, 
The  needle  pierces  gems  of  precious  gleam  ! 

Thus  life  takes  on  the  worthless,  rich,  and  rare, 
Yet  as  a  seeker  it  can  only  choose 

From  what  there  is  within  its  fated  course, 
Which  makes  us  feel  how  much  a  life  may  lose, 

When  circumstances  rob  the  mind's  resource. 
Alas  !  how  many  minds  are  never  taught 
To  know  the  value  of  a  precious  thought ! 


POETRY. 

O  POETRY,  what  powers  you  have  combined, 

To  mirror  nature's  every  hue  and  shape, 
To  form  a  background  for  the  acting  mind, 

So  it  can  on  the  stage  successful  ape 
The  scenes  and  passions  we  in  life  most  feel ! 

At  times  your  scenery  gives  such  effect 
That  nature  seems  the  thing  you  would  reveal, 

But  in  your  finest  efforts  we  detect 
The  mind  is  what  you'd  have  us  more  admire. 

It's  then  you  show  the  genius  of  your  art, 
Portraying  things  which  gifted  souls  inspire  ; 

And  when  taste  moves  the  whole  to  do  their  part, 
The  choicest  things  in  nature  then  are  brought 
To  clothe  with  grace  the  acting  force  of  thought. 


NOTES. 


NOTE  i,  PAGE  10. 

Since  writing  this  sonnet  I  have  learned  that  similar  thoughts  have 
been  given  to  the  world  by  Margaret  Fuller. 

NOTE  2,  PAGE  18. 

This  poem  was  composed  after  years  of  cruising  over  the  stormy 
track  described. 

NOTE  3,  PAGE  36. 

The  weedy  sea  discovered  by  Columbus  on  his  first  voyage  to 
America  comprises  nearly  a  million  square  miles  of  ocean. 

NOTE  4,  PAGE  59. 

The  poem  on  the  "  Northeast  Trade-winds  "  was  published  in  the 
"  Whalemen's  Shipping  List,"  November  22d,  1870,  with  the  follow 
ing  remarks  :  — 

In  looking  over  the  text-books  used  in  our  schools,  treating  on 
Physical  Geography,  there  seems  to  be  a  lack  of  information  in  regard 
to  the  natural  forces  working  to  supply  this  country  with  rain.  Think 
ing  that  my  unusual  experience  in  that  direction  may  be  of  some  value, 
I  have  here  made  a  statement  of  the  main  facts  for  publication. 

Having  passed  several  years  of  sea-lite  on  different  oceans,  in  search 
of  whales,  a  portion  of  my  voyages  have  been  spent  in  the  Atlantic 
Ocean,  especially  in  the  belt  of  the  Northeast  Trade-winds,  where  a 
section  of  them  sweeps  over  a  breadth  of  ocean  and  sea,  on  a  track 
over  1,000  miles  wide  of  latitude,  and  a  length  of  over  4,000  miles  of 
longitude,  reaching  from  Africa  to  Mexico,  crossing  the  West  India 
Islands,  and  a  portion  of  Forida. 

While  cruising  in  this  belt,  off  the  coast  of  Africa,  I  often  experi 
enced  a  warm,  dry  wind,  from  the  desert,  always  accompanied  with  a 
fine  yellow  dust,  as  light  apparently  as  smoke,  which  I  have  known 
to  extend  a  third  of  the  way  across  the  ocean,  and  so  dense  at  times 
as  to  make  the  navigation  dangerous  around  the  islands  off  the  coast , 
while  the  heat  of  the  desert  winds,  converted  into  ocean  Trades, 
was  often  scorching  to  vegetation  on  shore,  besides  causing  a  great 


214  NOTES. 

evaporation  on  that  part  of  the  ocean,  probably  the  greatest  ever 
taken  from  any  portion  of  the  globe.  So  much,  in  fact,  while  cruis 
ing  in  the  longitude  of  45°  West,  in  mid-ocean,  the  atmosphere 
would  become  so  loaded  with  moisture,  it  was  often  impossible  to  see 
whales  spout,  even  when  their  backs  were  visible  from  the  deck  ;  the 
atmosphere  and  spouts  being  so  near  alike  in  density  and  temperature, 
making  it  impossible  to  keep  run  of  them  ;  a  difficulty  seldom  experi 
enced  on  other  oceans,  where  a  spout  is  as  distinct  as  a  puff  of  steam 
in  clear  weather  ;  while  here  they  are  rendered  so  invisible,  as  to  give 
security  to  the  largest  breeding-places  of  the  sperm  whale  in  the 
Atlantic  Ocean. 

My  cruises  generally  ended  in  zigzag  courses,  while  drifting  with 
the  winds  and  currents  of  these  humid  Trades  through  the  various 
passages  of  the  West  India  Islands,  where  I  saw  a  portion  of  the 
exceedingly  moist  atmosphere  condensed  by  the  mountains  and  pre 
cipitated  ;  yet  with  the  remainder,  I  have  been  wafted  on  into  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico,  even  to  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi  River,  where  I 
resorted  for  supplies,  while  the  humid  winds  passed  on  to  water  the 
great  valley  beyond. 

I  know  it  is  generally  supposed  that  the  Northeast  Trades,  so 
called,  precipitate  their  humidity  on  the  northern  coast  of  South 
America,  and  the  eastern  slope  of  Central  America  and  Mexico ; 
which  they  do  in  part,  and  give  those  regions  a  thorough  drenching ; 
but  I  also  know  from  long  experience,  that  the  northern  portion  of 
the  Trades  often  blow  from  the  south  of  east,  —  so  much  so  in  fact,  I 
have  sailed  from  the  vicinity  of  the  West  India  Islands,  making 
nearly  an  east  course,  two  thirds  of  the  distance  across  the  ocean. 
In  fact,  the  veering  of  the  Trades  will  compare  favorably  with  the 
great  rain-storms  that  sometimes  spread  over  a  portion  of  the  United 
States. 

I  have  often  thought  that  the  West  India  Islands,  extending  as  they 
do  from  the  centre  of  the  Trades,  1,500  miles  to  the  northwest,  may 
serve  to  divert  a  large  amount  of  vapor  in  that  direction.  Thus  it  is 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  a  portion  of  the  evaporation  of  those 
desert-heated  Trades  is  wafted  over  the  United  States,  where  the 
variable  winds  and  the  level  nature  of  the  country  facilitate  a  wide 
and  even  distribution  of  rain.  The  evaporation  being  greatest  in 
summer,  the  average  fall  of  rain  should  generally  be  greater  during 
that  season.  I  am  also  led  to  believe  that  hurricanes,  moving  as  they 
do  from  the  centre  of  the  great  evaporation  described,  convey  a  large 
amount  of  vapor  towards  the  United  States.  And  that  the  heated 
winds  from  Sahara  assist  in  keeping  up  the  temperature  of  the  Gulf 
Stream,  as  well  as  swelling  its  volume. 


NOTES.  215 

NOTE  5,  PAGE  67. 

The  lines  on  the  voyage  of  Columbus  were  written  while  searching 
for  whales  over  the  route  pursued  by  him  on  his  first  voyage  across 
the  Atlantic. 

NOTE  6,  PAGE  74. 

September  i6th,  saw  weeds  which  appeared  fresh,  occasioning  the 
belief  that  the  ships  were  approaching  some  island.  September  2ist. 
large  collection  of  weeds  from  the  west.  22d,  short  interval  without 
weeds.  23d,  weeds  plentiful,  and  so  on  up  to  the  8th  of  October.  — 
Journal  of  Columbus. 


P/M 


14  DAY  USE 

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141982341. 


LD  21A-60?n-2,'67 
(H241slO)476B 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


